


Red

by IsolationShepherd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Acting, Christmas, F/M, Filmmaking, Kabby, London, Longing, New York, No Strings Attached, One Night Stands, Pining, Red Dress, Separation, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:22:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 105,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsolationShepherd/pseuds/IsolationShepherd
Summary: Marcus Kane is handsome, successful, and wealthy, and yet he's drinking alone in a bar on his birthday, miserable and depressed. A woman in red walks in and takes a seat next to him. She's confident and sexy. They end up sharing a drink or three, and Marcus wonders if it will turn into something more...
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Comments: 244
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 1

Marcus Kane took a corner seat at the bar on the ground floor of his apartment building and ordered a champagne cocktail. He took a long swallow, sighing as the cool liquid slid down his throat, then started warming his veins. He loosened his tie and sat back so he could survey the bar. The guy who owned the other penthouse was in a booth surrounded by his usual hangers-on. They were talking and laughing, and the drinks were flowing freely. His neighbour, Robson, caught Marcus looking at him and raised a glass to acknowledge him.

“Good evening, Marcus,” he shouted in his awful Australian accent.

“Evening,” muttered Marcus. There was no love lost between them. Robson was an actor, had been in one hit TV show as far as Marcus was aware, and somehow that had made him enough money to afford a penthouse in the most prestigious building in London. The second-best penthouse, though, because Marcus had the premium one, the one with the view of Tower Bridge and all the best things London had to offer. Marcus had worked hard for his money, so it irked him that this guy was almost on a par with him for doing nothing more than pretending like a kid at play in the schoolyard.

He finished his drink and nodded at the barman for another. It was his fortieth birthday, but he wasn’t drinking to celebrate. He was feeling sorry for himself, like he did every birthday, and the only way to get rid of that feeling was to drown it in alcohol.

He was staring into his third drink, a warm buzz building in his head, when he sensed a presence and turned to see a woman in a red dress pulling out the seat next to him. She perched on the stool, her long legs tucked into the frame, and turned to look at him. She had dark brown eyes that were liquid in the soft bar light. They fixed him with a hard stare, seeming to bore inside him and lay the darkest parts of his soul bare. A pulse of desire shot straight to Marcus’s cock, shocking him with its intensity. Then she smiled, and he was bathed in warmth.

“What are you drinking?” she said.

“I beg your pardon?” said Marcus, unsure whether she was asking him if he wanted another drink, or for a recommendation.

“What’s your drink?” she nodded at his glass.

“A champagne cocktail.”

“I’ll have one of those,” she said to the barman, who gave Marcus a slight rise of his eyebrow as he turned to make the drink.

She didn’t offer to buy one for Marcus, so he turned back to his own drink and resumed his staring, trying to ignore her presence and the musky scent of her perfume, which he found intoxicating.

“I was told this was the place to come for cocktails,” the woman said, and she sucked the cherry off the cocktail stick as Marcus raised his head to look at her.

“It’s the place to come for everything,” said Marcus.

“Guess I lucked out, then.” She arched her eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Marcus’s pulse quickened, sending another wave of desire through his veins and down to his cock. Was she flirting with him? She tucked a curl of her long, golden-brown hair behind her ear as she took a sip of her drink. Marcus appraised her while she wasn’t looking at him. He could see the swell of her breasts in the vee of her dress. They looked firm and natural, a good handful, which always turned him on. She had an angular face, long straight nose, cheekbones you could get a papercut from, arched brows and a slight downturn to her mouth that gave her a haughty look until she smiled. She was stunning.

Marcus sat straighter, angled his long, lean body so he was facing her. “Maybe we both did,” he said, and he stirred his drink, before fixing her with his patented stare that rarely failed him when it came to his female conquests. She regarded him coolly in return.

“Do you live near here?”

“I live here.”

“Here in the bar?” She smiled to show she was teasing him.

“Not in the bar, although the barman might disagree.” Marcus allowed a small smile to grace his own face. “I have the penthouse.” He watched for her reaction. Usually this information led to women leaning closer to him, making sure he saw what they were offering, fixing him with coy smiles. It bored him, if he was honest, though it didn’t stop him taking advantage of their willingness.

“So you’re a big deal are you, in these parts?” The woman seemed unperturbed by knowledge of his wealth and status. Looking at how she was dressed, the expensive cut of her dress, the small diamond cross that nestled in her cleavage, he thought perhaps she had money of her own. She wasn’t showing it off, like the wives of some of the men he worked with. She was classically understated, which only the truly confident and wealthy could pull off.

Marcus shrugged nonchalantly. “I work hard,” he said.

“Always an attractive quality.”

“Is it?”

She nodded, finished her drink. Marcus held two fingers up to the barman, who poured them each another cocktail.

“You’re not from around here?” Marcus asked as he twirled his glass.

“Just visiting.”

Marcus sipped his drink, contemplated her. “Do you often walk into bars and talk to strange men?”

Her eyes glittered in the half light. “Are you a strange man?”

A smile tugged at Marcus’s lips. “Depends who you talk to.”

She looked down into her glass and smiled. They drank in silence for a minute. Marcus wondered where this was going to lead. She’d picked him out straight away, sat next to him, talked to him first, continued talking to him, flirting with him. Normally, he would be sure of himself, because women only did this when they wanted something from him, usually sex, in the hope that it would lead to something more, like life in a penthouse apartment. This woman was different, though. She hadn’t even introduced herself, which made him wonder if she wasn’t planning on getting to know him any better, or she was but she wanted it to be low key and anonymous. He was fine either way, but he didn’t want to misread her signals. He would show her a casual interest and let her take it from there.

“I’m going to powder my nose,” she said, and she grabbed her bag from the bar and slid off the stool, heading in the direction of the washrooms.

The barman came over, gave Marcus a knowing look. “You’re in there,” he said with a grin. “A woman coming into a bar alone dressed like that. She only has one thing on her mind. Trust me.”

Marcus looked at him with contempt. “What do men who come into bars alone dressed like me have on their minds?”

The barman furrowed his brow in confusion, clearly expecting some dirty remark from a fellow male of the species. Marcus was a lot of things, but a sexist pig like this man wasn’t one of them. He treated men and women with equal disdain, and he never promised anything he wasn’t prepared to give to the women he slept with. If they chose to sleep with him more in hope than expectation, that was up to them.

“We’ll have two French 75s, and keep away until I call you,” he said coldly, and the barman shrugged before doing as requested.

The woman in the red dress returned after a couple of minutes and retook her seat, this time crossing her long legs so that a high-heeled ankle dangled tantalisingly close to Marcus’s calf. If she moved an inch, she could rub her foot up his leg, and that would be his undoing. He waited for the contact, but it didn’t come. She remained an inch away. He wanted to know her name, but he didn’t want to ask, because it felt like this was a game between them, that anonymity was necessary and desired, and the thought turned him on. He’d call her Red in his mind, because of the dress.

Red saw she had a different drink and picked it up, stirring it before taking a small sip. “Ooh, that’s lovely. What is it?”

“A French 75.”

She took another sip, swirled the liquid round her mouth. “Lemon, something syrupy and something a little bitter?” She looked at him for the answer.

“Gin.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

Marcus nodded. “I take it cocktails are your drink of choice?”

“I like the infinite variety. Is it the same for you, or do you just think they make you look like James Bond?”

“You think I look like James Bond?”

Red frowned as she appraised him. “I don’t know.” She gestured to his head and body. “The dark hair, the suit. The way you look like you’re either going to kill me or bed me.”

Marcus nearly choked on his drink at her words. “I definitely don’t want to kill you,” he said when he’d recovered.

“I don’t want to kill you either,” she said in a low voice that made the hairs on Marcus’s arms stand up. His cock was pulsing beneath his pants, and he was glad for the low light. If he ended up sleeping with this woman, he wasn’t at all sure he’d make it out alive, no matter what she said.

The champagne had warmed his blood in every way, and his brain was buzzing with excitement and desire. He tried to remember how many drinks he’d had. Four, perhaps, five? Red was finishing her third, and the only sign she was affected was a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks.

“Do you want something to eat?” Marcus said, more to give her the opportunity to soak up some of the alcohol than to ask her to dinner.

“No. I’m happy with the drinks. Shall we have another?”

“If you like.”

“I do.” She turned that warm smile on him again, and Marcus knew if he didn’t have her tonight, he was going to spend the rest of his life regretting it.

“Same again or do you want to be adventurous?”

She raised that damn eyebrow again. “What do you think?”

He called the barman who came across nervously. “Two Hemingways,” Marcus said.

“With the real stuff?”

Marcus nodded.

“Coming up.” The barman retrieved a bottle containing a green liquid from beneath the counter, which he poured into two champagne flutes. He then added the champagne, and the drink clouded up, turning a delicate shade of green.

Marcus handed one of the glasses to Red, and clinked his against it, “Cheers.”

She tasted it without asking what was in it, and Marcus found her daring incredibly attractive. “Aniseed,” she said when she set down her glass. “Pernod?”

Marcus shook his head, his excitement at revealing what was in the drink surprising to him. It must be the amount he’d drunk, making him feel this way. “Something naughty,” he said in a low whisper, making Red lean towards him so her perfume filled his nostrils, and her hairs tickled his cheek.

“What’s that?” she whispered back, her breath warm against his ear.

“Absinthe.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“The real stuff is.”

“And this is the real stuff?”

Marcus nodded, and her hairs caught in his eyelashes. He didn’t brush them away. “Yes, but don’t worry, there’s not enough to cause hallucinations or degeneracy.”

“Pity,” said Red, her voice so low it sent shivers through Marcus. “What’s it called?”

“Death in the Afternoon.”

“I like it.”

“I thought you would.” He let his lips brush gently against her hair, and then he pulled away, sat up so he could take a sip of his own drink.

Red sat back as well. “I do enjoy la petite mort in the afternoon.”

“It’s not the afternoon,” said Marcus.

Red simply raised her eyebrows and took another sip of her drink.

La petite mort. Marcus knew what that meant. Her boldness was as intoxicating as her perfume. Marcus was used to taking the lead, to being the seducer, the one who dictated everything that happened. With Red he felt like he was being dangled on the end of a string, a marionette for her to play with as she wished. It was a new feeling, like being weightless, unanchored. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he could put up with it, because the reward promised to be well worth it.

“Are you staying nearby?” he said, deciding to take back some of the lead.

“Westminster.”

“At the Hyatt?”

“No, The Royal.”

“The Royal?” Marcus couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. He’d thought she had money, but that place was seriously expensive. Some rooms wouldn’t give you change for £1,000 a night.

“Do you know it?”

“I’ve been there, for events mostly.” He’d also fucked the wife of one of the trustees of his company in the Circular Suite once upon a time, but he wasn’t going to tell Red that.

“I have a partial view of Tower Bridge if I stand with my nose pressed against part of the window.” She laughed and finished her drink.

So not the most expensive room, then, but still a nice place to stay. “I have a view of the Bridge and most of central London from my bedroom,” Marcus said, not for once actually boasting about it, just making conversation, at least that’s how it sounded to him.

“Must be nice to wake up to that.” Red pushed her glass away and pulled out her phone from her bag. “I should call up an Uber.”

Marcus’s stomach lurched. This was unexpected. He’d been convinced she was in it with him for the night. “I could show you,” he said, keeping his voice as even as possible, not wanting to seem eager.

Red fixed him with an amused look. “You want to show me the view from your penthouse?”

“If you want to see it.”

“That’s your line with all the women, isn’t it?” She put her phone in her bag, gave a small sigh as she narrowed her eyes to look at him.

“No. Well, yes, but not this time.”

“Not this time? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What? No. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Marcus wasn’t sure what conversation they were having. He thought she was teasing him, but his brain had slowed down, and thoughts took longer to process.

Red cocked her head to one side as she contemplated him. “Is it a nice view?”

“It’s a very nice view.”

“I suppose if one is in London one should take in the sights.”

“I’m an excellent guide.”

“I have no doubt. Shall we go then?” She gathered up her bag and slipped off the stool.

Marcus walked in front of her to the lift, ignoring the smirk of the barman who was watching them go. They stood side by side waiting for the car to arrive. Marcus was acutely aware of every molecule of her. Her scent surrounded him, the warmth of her body radiated towards him, her eyes were boring into him. He swallowed, his heart pounding, his cock throbbing. He prayed no one else would get into the lift with them.

The car arrived, and he let Red enter first, following her and waving his card against the sensor for the penthouse, which ensured an uninterrupted ascent. The doors closed, and he turned towards her. She looked up at him, and he reached out, ran his fingers through her hair, his hand coming to rest on the back of her head. Her lips parted, and he pulled her gently towards him. Their lips met, chaste at first, and then she snaked her arms around his back and pressed him to her. Her mouth opened, her tongue chased his, and the kiss deepened. She tasted like spiced fruit, and Marcus couldn’t get enough.

Her hands slipped to his ass, gripping him, grinding his erection against her. She moaned, and Marcus groaned. He ran his lips over her sharp cheekbones, down to her throat. She flung her head back, and he buried his face in her cleavage, kissing the swell of her perfect breasts. His hands pushed her dress up from behind, and he was rubbing his fingers along the damp crotch of her underwear when the door pinged and opened into his apartment.

They stepped into his vast living room, and the spell was broken. Red pushed her dress down, adjusted the bodice. Marcus tried to calm his breathing. “Drink?” he said, and Red nodded. He walked painfully to the bar, his cock so swollen he thought one touch would have him coming like a schoolboy. Perhaps it was as well to slow down a little. He retrieved a bottle of champagne from the chiller, got two glasses and placed them on the counter.

“I don’t have any mixers,” he said.

“Straight up is fine.”

Marcus poured them both a drink and handed one to Red. She clinked her glass against his.

“Cheers,” she said.

“Cheers,” replied Marcus. He stood uncertainly, watching her, not sure where to go from here. It was an unusual feeling, and again he felt like he was floating, like he’d jumped out of an airplane without a parachute. It was a strangely arousing feeling.

“So, this is a penthouse apartment?” Red wandered into the dining room, with its long table set for ten, and its view of Tower Bridge.

“You haven’t been in one before?” Marcus was surprised, because she seemed like the kind of woman who was used to the highest quality in everything.

“Not one like this.” She ran her finger over the backs of the chairs. “Do you entertain a lot?”

Marcus paused before answering, and he could see in her eyes that told her a lot. There was no point lying to her. “No. Not a lot.”

“Pity.”

He followed her as she explored his home. She had no qualms about being nosey, asking questions. He told her the truth, mostly.

“What’s through here?” she said when they’d reached the furthest end of the floor.

“My bedroom.”

“The one with the amazing view?”

“Yes.” Marcus’s pulse quickened. Blood pumped around his body, making him throb. Were they finally getting to the heart of why they were both here?

“I’m wondering how it can be a better view than all the others I’ve already seen.” She looked up at him slyly, her brown eyes sparkling with confidence, and desire, or at least he hoped that’s what it was.

“Then perhaps you should see for yourself.” Marcus opened the door, held it while Red passed him, her body grazing deliciously against his.

“Wow!” she said, as she took in the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up half of the room, giving a sweeping panorama of London. She walked up to the glass, stood next to the chaise longue and gazed out at the view.

Marcus put his glass on the bedside table. He positioned himself behind her, put a tentative hand out to stroke her hair. She leaned back, responding to his touch, so he was emboldened. He pushed her hair to one side, pressed a kiss to her neck. “You’re very sexy,” he whispered.

“Mmmm.” Red moaned as his fingers hooked into the straps of her red dress, slipped them from her shoulders.

Marcus kissed the skin he’d bared, then his fingers moved to the zipper at the back of her dress. He pulled it down slowly, all the way to the curve of her ass. It gaped open, and he eased it down. Red stepped out of it, bent down to pick it up and drape it across the back of the chaise. She was wearing a black lace strapless bra and panties beneath. Marcus brought his hands to her front, caressed her breasts through the thin material of her bra. They were a perfect handful as he’d suspected, and he moaned at just the thought of uncovering them.

They were right in front of the glass, and the sun was starting to set. He could see a faint reflection of their bodies pressed against each other. It turned him on to see it. She didn’t seem bothered that she was half-naked in front of these huge windows, where half of London could see, as long as they had a telescope, and a penthouse of their own. Marcus dismissed that last thought. He’d rather think of showing her off, undressing her so that everyone could see his prize.

Red put her arm up behind her, grabbed the back of his head. The movement made her body stretch, and Marcus took advantage, running his hands over the flat of her stomach, up to her breasts. He pulled the front of her bra down, releasing them, his thumbs running over her hard nipples. She groaned, and Marcus groaned.

“Oh, God,” he said. His movements became more frantic, his hands squeezing her, kneading her. He let his right hand slide down her body, fingers coming to rest at the waistband of her panties.

“Yes,” she breathed, and he let his fingers slip beneath, down through a neat triangle of hairs to her sex which was slippery as he rubbed his fingertips along it. “Ohhhh!” She let out a long moan, and Marcus pressed his middle finger inside her. She stretched against him. His left arm was across her chest, holding her tight to him, his right hand was in her panties, stroking her, circling the hard nub of her clit, slipping inside where she was so hot.

She was writhing against him, moaning, and he increased his rhythm, circling her harder and faster.

“God, God,” she said, and he felt her pulse against his fingers as she came. She grew hot in his arms, and they stood there for a moment, in front of the window, before Marcus turned and lifted her and carried her to his bed where he lay her down and knelt before her. He pulled her wet panties off her, threw them on the floor.

Red’s hands flew to his pants, unbuttoning them, helping him ease them and his shorts down. His cock bobbed up, long and thick, and he always loved this moment, when his partner saw him, realised what they were going to get. Red wrapped both her hands around him, squeezed and stroked him, before guiding him to her. Marcus planted his hands either side of her head and leaned in to capture her lips. She responded, letting her tongue meet his, moaning into his mouth. God, she was divine.

He eased the tip of him inside her, taking it slowly, letting her get used to him. She was tight even though she was so wet, and she gripped him deliciously. He had to close his eyes, think about something else for a moment, it felt too good. Then she wrapped her legs around him and thrust her pelvis towards him and he slipped all the way in.

“Fuck!” he said.

“Yeah.”

He moved in her, slowly at first, then faster. Their moans were loud, their breaths stuttering. Marcus lost all control, thrusting in and out, drawing cries from Red that rose in pitch the harder he fucked her.

“Yes, yes,” she cried, and her hands were in his hair, pulling on him. She bent her knees towards her chest and he slid further in if that were possible. It felt so good to be buried all the way inside her. She cried out as she tightened around him, her orgasm squeezing him, bringing him to his own climax.

He collapsed on top of her, sweaty, exhausted. “Wow!” he said.

“Yeah,” said Red, and he rolled off her, lay next to her, panting.

“That was great,” said Marcus.

“It was.” Red turned to look at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Thank you!”

She lay back with her hands behind her head. Her breasts were still fairly perky even though she was lying down. He wanted to put his hands on them again, wrap his lips around her pink nipples and suck them into his mouth, taste their saltiness, lick the tips until she was squirming beneath him. In fact he wanted to run his tongue all over her down to her sex, split her open with it, put the flat of it against her, curl the tip inside her. He groaned at the thought.

“Are you okay?” she said.

“Yes, yes,” he said, sounding impatient, which was just a cover for his embarrassment at being caught thinking about her like that.

She studied him for a moment, then swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I should go.”

Marcus watched as she hunted for her underwear. He didn’t want to let her go, but his pride stopped him from moving or saying anything. She bent to look under the chaise, giving him a nice view of her ass and his flaccid cock twitched briefly into life. Forget your pride you dumbass, he told himself. Stop her.

He got off the bed, walked towards her. She stood up, panties in hand, and turned around, looking surprised that he was so close to her.

“Don’t go,” he said, and he took the panties from her, dropped them back to the floor. He moved closer, put his arms around her, his hands on her ass, and pressed her to him. Her breasts were squashed against his chest, her sex was rubbing against his cock. He ignored those areas and concentrated on her face, pressing gentle kisses along those fabulous cheekbones, over her jawline and up the other side. He was rewarded with a sigh.

“The night is young,” he whispered. “I want to know every part of you.”

“God,” she murmured.

“I want to taste you.”

“I want to taste you,” she whispered back.

Marcus captured her lips with his, let his tongue roam around her mouth. She pressed herself tighter to him, lifted her leg slightly, opening up her sex more to his growing hardness. He rubbed himself against her, and then he turned her and laid her on the chaise. He knelt before her, spread her legs and ran his thumbs over her lips, opening her up to his view.

“Beautiful,” he said, and he raised his head to look into her eyes. She was looking at him, her eyes half-lidded with desire.

“Taste me,” she said.

Marcus’s stomach actually flipped at her words, did a full somersault. That hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager. He spread her wider, put his tongue on her like he’d fantasised about, and she moaned and pushed up against him. She was sweeter than he’d expected, like saltwater taffy, and he explored her carefully, listening for her responses.

She liked it when he sucked on her lips, so he did it more, alternating it with little jabs of his tongue beneath the pearl of her clit. She cried out when he did that, so he put a little more pressure on her, discerning how much she could take. She was made of strong stuff. He tongued her clit, keeping up a regular rhythm and she puffed out breathy moans with every flick of his tongue, until the breaths had cries in them that got louder and faster and he licked her until his jaw was aching, not daring to vary his motions because she was close. He could taste it in her juices, feel it start to flow over his lips. One more run of his tongue over her and she was convulsing with a loud cry. He let her sex pulse against his lips, enjoying the feel of it, the knowledge that he’d brought her to this, given her this pleasure.

He looked up at her. She was lying back on the chaise, her chest heaving, one arm flung across her face. Her lips formed an O as she let out a long breath, calming herself. She opened her eyes, saw him watching her.

“That. Was. Incredible.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, looked at her nonchalantly, as though this was the kind of feedback he got every time. It wasn’t. Not that he wasn’t good at it, he knew he was. It was just that he usually slept with women who moaned loudly like they were in a porn film and said little. He was never sure how much was genuine pleasure and how much was fake to keep him interested. With Red there was no pretence. Her pleasure was intoxicating.

“Your turn,” she said, and she slid off the chaise and gestured for him to lie on it. He stretched out, one butt cheek resting in a damp patch she’d created. That knowledge turned him on, and his cock twitched, making Red smile. “Eager,” she said, and Marcus looked at her coolly.

“Ready when you are,” he said.

Red got on her knees, her long hair falling forwards as she bent towards him. Marcus’s anticipation rose the closer she got. Having his cock sucked was one of the highlights of the sexual experience for him, though it was often inexpertly done. He was desperate for Red to wrap her lips around it, to find out what she could do. His heartrate increased, and he gripped the chair. She stopped short and looked up at him through long eyelashes.

“Don’t be shy to tell me what you want,” she said.

I want your mouth on me NOW, he thought. “I won’t,” he said.

Red ran her soft hands up his thighs, her thumbs reaching his perineum, stroking it, putting pressure on it.

“God!” cried Marcus, and he nearly leapt off the chaise. Red put a hand on his stomach to hold him down. The fingers of her other hand caressed his balls, and then she dipped her head and licked them, massaging them with her tongue. Marcus couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken their time like this. They usually went straight for his cock.

“Good?” she whispered, her breath hot on his sac.

“Yeah.”

She licked him again, and then she ran the flat of her tongue all the way up the underside of his cock from his balls to the head, and Marcus bucked towards her involuntarily. She shifted position so she was right over him and then gripped the base of his cock, put her lips around the head and slid gently down his shaft. Her hand followed her mouth back up to the top where she circled the head with her tongue and then slid back down again. God, it was heavenly. Marcus groaned to show his appreciation, and she repeated the action, over and over again.

“Suck the head,” Marcus said when her actions became too much, and she did as he asked, sliding her tongue over and round him, her lips wet, her mouth hot. Marcus’s moans grew louder. “That bit on the underside. Tongue it.”

She licked beneath the head quick and hard and Marcus flung an arm loosely over the edge of the chaise as he lay back, bucking his hips towards her.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” he said. Every feeling in his body was concentrated in his cock. There was nothing else. His head was fuzzy, his brain barely capable of thought.

Then she took him back in her mouth, her hand chasing her tongue up and down his shaft, falling into a rhythm that had him thrusting into her harder and faster. She was breathing deeply, making soft moaning sounds herself, and Marcus couldn’t hold on any longer, the pleasure was too great. His ass twitched and pulses of desire shot to his cock until he was coming in hot spurts into her mouth. She swallowed it, and sat back on her heels, looking up at him. He gazed down at her, at her lips swollen and red, her pink cheeks and her long, curled hair. God, she was beautiful.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and she smiled.

Marcus lay back on the chaise and stared up at the ceiling. That was probably one of the best blowjobs he’d ever got, second only maybe to the first, when he was sixteen, and his young violin teacher had sunk to her knees mid-lesson. He smiled at the memory of that.

“Do you want some champagne?” said Red, and she stood up, naked, and Marcus surveyed her unapologetically, taking in her boyish waist and hips, her long legs and her beautiful, majestic breasts. He sighed with pleasure.

“Yes.”

“Come to bed, then.” She retrieved the bottle from the bucket on the floor and jumped on the bed, leaning across to Marcus’s side to top up his glass. She sat back against the pillows and Marcus joined her.

They drank the rest of the champagne, and he only had a vague memory of the rest of the night, flashes rather than fully-formed memories. Her riding him, her breasts bouncing, him finally getting to wrap his lips around her nipples when she leaned over him.

He couldn’t remember anything they’d said, and when he woke up in the morning with a thumping headache he was surprised at first to encounter a warm body next to him, until he turned to look at her, and the memory of her sitting next to him in the bar in her sexy red dress, asking him what he was drinking, bubbled to the surface, followed swiftly by images of their other activities.

She looked at him, disappointed he thought in the sober light of day, and all the pleasure of the previous night drained from him, leaving him cold, and when he got cold he got rude and defensive, and that was how she ended up leaving him with a haughty raise of her eyebrow, and he showered alone, tugging half-heartedly on his softening cock. Her loss, he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby thinks about her one night stand, and Marcus can't get Red out of his mind.

Abby Griffin yawned surreptitiously behind her hand as she sat in a meeting in the lobby of her hotel. Thank God it was only a casual discussion and not something that required deep thought. She was incapable of that having had little sleep the night before. She’d forgotten she had a breakfast meeting until she’d walked into the hotel and seen her colleagues standing at reception asking for her. She’d managed to sneak to the elevator unseen, rush into her room and change out of her red dress into jeans and a t-shirt before heading back down five minutes later with the excuse that she’d been in the shower. Her eyes needed propping open with matchsticks and her head was thumping from too much alcohol and too little sleep.

“Another coffee!” she said to the waiter as he passed them.

“Are you okay, Abby?” Her assistant, Raven Reyes, looked at her with concern. “You seem distracted.”

“Tired, that’s all. I’m still on US time.”

“Oh, I know how that is. Took me a few days to acclimatise. You’ll get there.”

Raven had arrived in England a week ahead of Abby to prepare for the project they were about to embark upon. She was young and enthusiastic, her brown eyes full of spirit despite the early start. Abby vaguely remembered being like that once upon a time. This was what she got for picking up an unknown guy in a bar and spending the night with him at her age. She couldn’t handle burning the candle at both ends, not that she’d ever been an enthusiast for late nights and casual sex. Last night had been a first, at least in the last decade or so.

She didn’t know why she’d done it. Okay, she did, but she didn’t want to think about that. He was handsome and flirty, had a sexy British accent, and he’d looked like he needed it as much as she had. She’d expected it to be good, because he exuded confidence and not bravado, and that to her meant he had the goods to back up his claims. She’d met plenty of men who didn’t, who were all talk and then disappointing. Not just in the bedroom, but in all elements of their lives. Penthouse guy hadn’t been like that, and when she’d finally been alone with him not only had he not disappointed, he’d been amazing.

His pride and his arrogance had been a turn on, which was surprising because she never usually went for guys like that, and he’d enjoyed giving her pleasure as much as he had taking it, and that too had been a surprise, especially after recent experiences. Course she knew why that was now, but nevertheless, it had been wonderful to be so desired by this stranger.

“I’ve negotiated a great deal with the owner of the building,” Raven was saying as Abby tuned back into the conversation, “so we’re all set to go from next week.”

“That’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“You need to find somewhere more permanent than this to live. I’ve got some brochures for short-term rentals.” Raven slid a sheaf of papers towards Abby. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be close to the project or need to get away at the end of the day, so there’s a choice of areas.”

“You are a lifesaver, Raven.”

“Just doin’ ma job,” she said, beaming.

Abby sipped her coffee, waiting for it to make her feel human again, and tried to summon up the appearance of enthusiasm for the rest of the discussion.

Two days later she was being shown around an apartment on the south side of the River Thames when she looked out of the window and saw Tower Bridge in the distance. That was where penthouse guy lived, on the other side of the river with the view of the bridge he’d been so proud of. He’d fucked her in front of that view, holding her tight to him, long, clever fingers curled inside her. A jolt of desire ran through her at the memory. She’d thought about it a lot since that night, about the sex mainly, but also about him, his brown eyes, his neat dark hair with the curl that flopped into his eye when he was above her, pounding into her, making her come again and again. Oh, Jesus! She crossed her legs, squeezed her thighs, more to relieve the itch than anything else, but it didn’t work.

“I’ve seen enough,” she said to the realtor, before fleeing the apartment like she was possessed, which she was.

The cab drive back to her hotel took forever but the time did nothing to dampen her desire. She was soon in her room, clothes divested, lying on the bed, knees bent and spread, eyes closed, fingers stroking herself into a shuddering pleasure at the thought of him.

She should find him. No, that was a terrible idea. Think of the consequences. Fuck the consequences! She knew where he lived... it would be easy enough. Then she remembered how cold he’d been the next day, making it clear to Abby that it was a one-night thing only. She wasn’t going to go crawling to a man like that, begging for it. It was a bad idea for many reasons. She’d have to make do with her memories.

\---

For three days Marcus tried not to think about Red, but memories of their night together would pop into his mind randomly, sometimes at the most inopportune times. One time he was in the Boardroom, listening to the accountant drone on about the company’s finances, and in his mind’s eye Red was lying on his chaise longue, her legs spread before him, her sex glistening and waiting for his eager tongue. He’d followed the train of thought to its conclusion, to her loud cry as she bucked against him, to how hot she was, how wet, how juicy. He hadn’t been able to stand when the meeting broke up for fear of betraying his obvious desire, relying instead on his reputation for being cold and dismissive to explain his lack of respect. He'd gone to his private bathroom as soon as the coast was clear, wanked into the toilet, one hand pressed against the cold tile behind, the other tugging frantically on his rock-hard cock.

He'd woken up yesterday with a hard on, spent some time on himself, stroking his cock slowly, thinking about her, about her mouth on him, how she’d licked his balls, caressed every inch of him. He’d actually cried out when he came he was so involved in his memory. Then another memory had bubbled to the surface, of her face the next morning, her dark eyes cold with disappointment and regret. Fuck her, he’d thought.

Now he was in the bar in his apartment building, sitting in the same seat, nursing a cocktail, a French 75 like he’d drunk with Red. Every time the door opened he half turned as casually as he could, hoping it was her, hating himself for the hope. He wasn’t usually like this, could take or leave the women he slept with, mainly the leaving part. She’d got under his skin, and it wasn’t just the sex, which had been fantastic – no, more than fantastic, possibly the best he’d ever had – it was her, something about her. Her confidence maybe, her wit, her downright sexiness.

He tried to recall what they’d talked about when they were in the bar. His memory of that part of the night was hazy, blotted out by what had happened later, which had unsurprisingly taken up more space in his mind. She was visiting, he remembered that. She had an American accent so a tourist perhaps, just here for a day or two. He could see her more clearly now he was sat in the same place they’d been. She was staying in Westminster, at The Royal! A frisson of excitement ran through him. He was going to find her, had to try.

Marcus took out his phone, did a search for the hotel. When the number appeared he pressed to connect, and a second later it was answered. He was silent for a moment, hadn’t prepared what he was going to say.

“Erm, hello. You have a guest staying with you, a woman. I don’t know her name, but she has long, brown hair. Very attractive.” Even as he was saying the words he was aware of how they sounded. Crazy. Stalkerish. Jesus.

“I’m afraid we can’t give out information on guests, Sir,” said the receptionist.

“No, of course not.” Marcus cancelled the call, took a large sip of his cocktail. “Idiot,” he said to himself.

He finished his drink, took the lift back to his apartment. He poured himself a whisky and took it out onto the balcony that ran along two sides of the apartment. The sun was setting and the buildings were lit up, the Shard conical shaped like a department store Christmas tree. The city was noisy, cars and horns and people and sirens. Red was out there somewhere, assuming she hadn’t gone back to wherever she was from.

He was never going to find her in a city this large, and he doubted she’d come looking for him, not after his rudeness before she left. He’d have to accept it was a one off, and wasn’t that for the best really? Nothing they did again would top that surely. It was best left as it was, a hot, stimulating memory that could sustain his imagination in the lean times between the boring, soul-destroying women he usually fucked.

Unless...

Wasn’t The Royal part of the Sinclair Group? And wasn’t that group now run by his old Cambridge schoolfriend Jacapo Sinclair? Yes, he was fairly certain it was. He’d taken over the family business a couple of years ago like Marcus had. Maybe it was time for a catch-up with Sinclair, pull in one of the many favours the man owed him.

The following afternoon he received an encrypted email from Sinclair with details of everyone who’d been staying at The Royal the night Marcus met Red. It was highly illegal, not to mention morally dubious, and Marcus felt some guilt as he looked through each of the drivers’ licences and passports that had been given as proof of ID and scanned by the hotel. Not guilty enough to stop, though. He was halfway through the file when he saw her, staring out from her passport photograph, her gaze challenging as he remembered it. His pulse picked up. Her name was Abigail Griffin. She was thirty-eight years old and resided in New York City. Abigail was his Red, there was no doubt about it. He picked up the phone and called Sinclair.

“It’s Kane,” he said when his old friend answered.

“I take it you got the photos?” said Sinclair, amusement in his voice.

“Yes. Thank you for doing that.”

“I would say it was a pleasure, but it could ruin me if anyone finds out. I could go to jail for breaching the Data Protection Act, you know that, right?”

“Yes, you pressed that point last night. So could I, so I’m hardly likely to tell the world about it.”

“Have you found her, the woman?”

“Yes. She’s called Abigail Griffin.”

“Abigail Griffin. Right. Let me look at the reservations.”

Marcus waited with growing anticipation while Sinclair tapped on the keyboard of his computer.

“Abigail Griffin, arrived a week ago on the 20th, staying in the Executive Suite. Oh.”

“What?”

“She checked out this morning. Sorry, Kane.”

“Fuck!” He was too late. If he hadn’t delayed, let his stupid pride get in the way, this wouldn’t have happened. “I don’t suppose there’s a forwarding address or anything?”

“No. She could have checked into another of our hotels I suppose. Do you want me to look?”

“No, it’s okay,” said Marcus resignedly. “You’ve done enough. I appreciate it.”

“That makes us even then,” said Sinclair with hope in his voice.

“Like hell it does! You owe me more favours than I can count on two hands.”

“I’m pretty sure you owe me some as well. It hasn’t been a one-way street.”

“It’s not just quantity, it’s quality. Some of the things I’ve done for you nobody would believe.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” said Sinclair, and Marcus could hear the grin in his voice.

“All I need say to you is Cambridge, Christmas 2000.”

“Jesus, Kane, that was twenty years ago!”

“A Kane never forgets.”

“Yeah, like a bloody elephant. You’ve got some cheek, you know, ringing me out of the blue when we haven’t spoken for two years, forcing me to break the law cause you want to shag some woman you don’t even know, and then threatening me with outing my youthful indiscretions!”

“Admit it, you’ve missed me.”

Sinclair guffawed into the phone. “Perhaps. Are you going to take me out for dinner by way of thanks?”

“I suppose I might as well, now that my other plans have come to nothing.”

“Poor you. It’s not like you’re one of the richest, most eligible men in London. No other woman is ever going to want to go out with your sorry arse.”

Marcus sighed. “She was something else, Sinclair.”

“She must have been. Can’t remember you ever being bothered about a woman to this extent before, unless you’ve gone soft in your old age.”

“There was nothing soft about me,” quipped Marcus, to which Sinclair groaned.

“I don’t want to know. I’m going to make a reservation at The Ivy for next Friday so you can’t get out of it.”

“Fine. I’ll see you there.”

Marcus sat back in his chair with a long sigh. That was it. She was gone. There’d be no more Red, no Abigail. She was destined to remain a beautiful, hot memory.

\---

Abby took her coffee out onto the small private deck of her new rental apartment, or flat as they quaintly called places like this in England. She’d found it a couple of weeks ago, just after the aborted viewing of the flat next to the Thames. This was a lot further away in a place called Notting Hill in West London, which she’d fallen instantly in love with because it had lots of independent stores and was noisy and bustling. It reminded her of New York, only in miniature. There were lots of parks nearby, including a huge one called Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park which made her think of Central Park, which she missed like crazy.

The flat was tiny, way smaller than her apartment back home. She could probably fit the entire floorplan into her New York living room, but she’d been drawn to its large arched windows and the terrace, which sat on top of a coffee shop and was sheltered despite being so close to other flats and the main road. She could have afforded something grander, like the Thames apartment, but she was trying to limit what she spent on herself so she’d have more budget for the project. The downside of the flat was that it was a couple of subway rides from where she was working. She’d wanted to stay closer to the project, but it wasn’t in a good area and the insurance company had balked at the idea. It was probably good to leave it behind after a long day, and Raven was staying close by.

As she thought about the girl, her phone rang.

“Hi, Raven.”

“Hey, Abby. What are you up to?”

“Just relaxing with a coffee. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. A few of us are in the pub, and I wondered if you wanted to join us?”

Abby looked at her watch. “It’s barely midday!”

“So? The British drink all day long. Come down. We’re going to have an authentic Sunday lunch.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know, but apparently it has something called Yorkshire Pudding. Don’t ask me what it is cause I have NO clue!”

“I don’t know...” Abby wasn’t sure she wanted to go out and socialise. She’d spent all week with people and was enjoying being alone with herself.

“Abby, babe, you haven’t been out since you got here! You’re always working. Come on, we’re only a couple of streets away, in the Flea and Firkin.”

“The what? What’s a firkin?”

“Hell if I know! Get down here.”

“I...” Abby realised Raven had already disconnected the call. She sighed. It would seem churlish not to go now she’d been invited. She’d go for a quick drink, show her face.

She finished her coffee and left, using her phone’s GPS to find the pub which was literally two streets away like Raven had promised, and down a narrow, covered alleyway. The pub was on the corner of a cobbled street and didn’t look from the outside like it could contain more than a handful of people. It seemed to be constructed mainly of a polished wood, with tiny leaded windows set in wooden frames. She opened the door and went in. The interior was more wood panelling. It reminded Abby of houses she’d seen in old films about kings and queens of England. Above the panelling sat hundreds of beer bottles, and mugs of infinite variety hung from the ceiling. It was a crazy place, like something out of another time. It was also crowded and noisy and she had half a mind to turn back when she saw someone waving. It was Raven.

“You made it!” she said, grinning broadly. She stood and kissed Abby on the cheek, then introduced her to a couple of people Abby didn’t know. The rest were work colleagues.

“Thanks for the invite,” she said.

“Of course! What would you like to drink?”

“I have no idea. Whatever you think is best.”

“It has to be a pint of English ale then.”

“That sounds good.” Abby took a seat on a high-backed wooden chair with ornate panelling that looked like it belonged to a huge dining table in a stately home. Was all this wood and age really authentic, or just inspired set dressing?

Raven returned a few minutes later with a glass containing an amber liquid. “We’re all drinking this,” she said.

“What is it?”

“It’s called London Pride. Try it.”

Abby took a sip. It tasted bitter and sweet at the same time, not unpleasant but not exactly moreish.

“Your face!” said Raven, laughing.

“What?”

“It’s all screwed up. You don’t like it.”

“It’s just not a taste I’ve come across before.”

“It will grow on you, I promise.”

Abby wasn’t convinced, but she sipped the drink while she listened to the conversation. The alcohol gave her a warm buzz and she relaxed. When it came time to order food she thought why not? She was hungry and she hadn’t fully stocked her larder yet in the new house.

Sunday lunch seemed a vague term to her, covering infinite possibilities, but to everyone else in the pub it had a very specific meaning, which was a meal consisting of roasted everything – meat, potatoes, parsnips, carrots - all covered in a brown sauce they called gravy. The Yorkshire Pudding, which Raven said was infamous, was like a popover, only taller and crispier and was without doubt the best part of the meal. Abby sat back afterwards with her hands on her stomach, knowing she was going to be asleep the rest of the afternoon.

\---

The same Sunday Abby had lunch with Raven, Marcus was at his family home in Dorset on the south coast, which was a long way from London in terms of distance and atmosphere. It was an ancient place, with cliffs studded with Jurassic fossils if you knew where to look. He’d enjoyed hunting for them as a kid. He loved it and loathed it depending on his mood. This weekend he had hovered between the two. It was a glorious morning with a deep blue sky that stretched forever, and a sun that was already hot despite it being early, if you could call ten o’clock early. In London he’d have been at his desk a couple of hours by now, even on a Sunday, but here time moved more slowly, and no one did anything in a hurry. He had breakfasted with his mother and annoying little sister, Georgina, out on the lawn, the table still littered with teacups and jam pots and the crumbled remains of cherry scones that nobody could be bothered to clear away.

Marcus pushed back his chair so he could stretch out his long legs. He sipped his tea and stared out across the camomile lawn towards the sea which shimmered blue in the distance. He might go for a swim later before he had to head back to London. From the front of the house he heard a car engine and the crunch of tyres on the gravel and a moment later his father appeared.

“I’ve got the Sunday papers,” he said, slapping a pile down on the table. Sir Anthony Kane was tall and dark like Marcus, although his hair was more white than brown, and he sported a thin moustache. Marcus refused to grow any facial hair so he wouldn’t look even more like his father. “Thanks for saving me some breakfast!” he said, surveying the debris with dismay.

“There’s some tea left in the pot,” said Marcus.

“I want all the magazines!” said Georgina, snatching at the pile.

“Manners, Georgina!” said Vera Kane, a short, stout woman with red hair whom no one in the family took after in any way. She often joked that Marcus and Georgina were foundlings, but Marcus thought that was to hide the fact that she was the odd one out. Georgina had the same brown eyes and hair as Marcus, her skin a burnished olive because she was out in the sun every opportunity she got. Both had their father’s temperament, which Marcus had to admit was best described as moody.

Marcus closed his eyes and waited while Georgina got what she wanted, and his father took the Sunday Times as he always did. That left him with The Observer, which sometimes veered too far to the left politically for his liking, but it would have to do.

He sat back in his chair and opened the paper, holding the pages in front of his face so he could hide from his mother or anyone else who wanted to engage him in conversation. He wasn’t above talking to them, but usually by the time Sunday came around he’d had his quota of family togetherness, not that the Kanes were models of happiness and unity. They survived each other, that was the best he could say, and given the dysfunctional families of some of the people he went to school with, that was a pretty good thing. There was nothing of great interest in the paper and when he felt his eyes closing he let them, and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

When he woke his father had gone, probably to his study, but his mother was still at the table reading The Sunday Times supplement. Georgina was cartwheeling around the lawn, her long braid swinging behind her. Marcus didn’t know where she got her energy from. He didn’t remember being that way himself at thirteen, but then that was a long time ago. He and Georgina were what his mother called her bookend babies, because she’d had Marcus near the start of her reproductive life when she was barely twenty, and Georgina at the end when she was forty-seven and thought she was going through the menopause. Instead, she’d given birth to a devil child who’d been his chief tormentor for the last thirteen years.

The sun had risen higher and was hotter, and Marcus decided now would be a good time for a swim, as there was a vague chance the sea had warmed enough not to kill him when he dived in. He got up, glancing at the table as he did. Georgina had left the magazines in a haphazard pile and right there on the top, bold as anything on the front cover of The Observer Magazine was a photograph of Red. Marcus’s stomach did a somersault worthy of the ones Georgina was attempting. What the hell? He picked up the magazine, sat back down with it.

_Filming Amy: Abby Griffin From New York to Clapham_ said the headline above a stunning photo of Abigail, or Abby as she seemed to be known. Marcus looked at the contents then flicked to page five, scanning the first paragraph quickly. Red was an actress! A reasonably well-known one if she’d made the cover of a British magazine. She was here to make a film based on a best-selling book about a young London girl who’d struggled with her sexuality and ended up killing herself. That was a meaty subject and not an easy one.

Marcus hadn’t heard of the book, but he didn’t have much time to read generally, and this wouldn’t have been a subject matter to draw him. Not that he wasn’t sympathetic to the girl’s plight, but he generally steered away from anything likely to make him more miserable than he already was at times. Something in it must have attracted Abby, because she was financing the film independently. Indeed, it seemed that most of the films she starred in were small independents, interspersed with American TV work presumably to pay the bills. No wonder he hadn’t recognised her or her name.

“Have you ever heard of an actress called Abby Griffin?” he said to his mother, showing her the cover of the magazine.

“An actress?” said Vera, screwing up her face as though there was a foul smell. “I doubt it. We don’t have a television, Marcus, as you know.”

“There are media other than TV. Films for instance.”

“Abby Griffin?” said Georgina, bounding up to Marcus and trying to take the magazine from him. He brushed her off gently.

“Go back to your acrobatics, pipsqueak.”

“She’s amazing!” said Georgina, ignoring him.

“You’ve heard of her?”

“Yes. I’ve seen a few of her films, and I read that article earlier. She’s a brilliant actress and she’s adapting one of my favourite books.”

“You’ve read this book, Finding Amy? Isn’t that a bit old for you?”

“I’m thirteen, Marcus!” She shrugged theatrically as though he was an idiot for thinking she was still a child.

“Thirteen is... never mind.” He decided not to say anything that might antagonise her as he wanted to keep her onside, find out what she knew. “You’ve seen her films, then? How?”

“You can’t get them here, but I’ve downloaded some from America.”

“Downloaded them. What does that mean?”

“God, Marcus you’re so stupid! How can you be so old and not know how to download anything?”

“I have important things to do like working hard to keep you supplied with trolls and bloody unicorns.”

“It’s flamingos now, and you really need to get with the times.”

Marcus shook his head. How were kids so grown-up these days? “I’m stupid, we’ve agreed. Are you going to show me how to download these films?”

Georgina put her hands on her hips and stared at him suspiciously. “Why do you want to see her films?”

“I’m interested, that’s all.”

“Do you fancy her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You do!” Georgina turned to Vera. “Marcus fancies an actress, mummy.”

“Don’t be silly, Georgie,” said Vera from behind her magazine.

Marcus took Georgina to one side. “If you show me how to download the films AND keep your mouth shut for more than five minutes, I’ll buy you a lake full of bloody flamingos.”

“Deal!” said Georgina, taking his hand and shaking it. “But I don’t need to show you, I have them on my computer. I’ll copy them for you.” She grinned at him, then ran up the lawn towards the house.

Marcus sank back into his chair. The girl was infuriating! He picked up the magazine, continued reading. Abby was filming in Clapham which was in south London where the book was based. She’d be here for at least six months. His heart started to race. The possibilities! Then he read the next part, and he frowned. She had a boyfriend! He was a fellow actor, mainly TV. They’d been together ten years and lived in New York. She spoke warmly about him in the interview, and Marcus, a man who considered himself unshockable, was surprised to say the least.

What had she been doing picking him up in a bar, fucking him six ways from Sunday? She’d given no hint that she was attached, or felt guilty, or that what she was doing was out of character. She’d enjoyed herself, until the next morning. Oh! Was that what her look of disappointment was? Not in finding herself waking up next to Marcus, but in herself, what she’d done? Maybe, or maybe this was what she did all the time, flying around the world to film, picking up a man in every city. Jesus!

The last paragraph piqued his interest again. She was holding a fundraiser a week on Friday to get financial backing for her film. It was a black-tie event at the country home of some allegedly famous documentary filmmaker. You could buy a table and there was an auction. His mind told him not to go, that she was trouble and nothing good would come of trying to see her. So what, though? He wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. Something casual with someone who didn’t want anything permanent either would suit him perfectly. She’d be discreet, they could have some fun, and in six months she’d go back to her life in America, with no one any the wiser and everyone happy. What was wrong with that?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus goes to Abby's fundraiser...

On the day of the fundraiser, Marcus returned from a swim in his building’s pool, showered, then lay naked on his bed while he air dried. It was warm again, the summer well and truly here, its heat reflected and amplified in the city jungle. He had the balcony doors open and a slight breeze wafted in, gradually helping to cool him. He got his laptop, loaded up one of Abby’s films and switched on the TV so he could project it on the huge screen. This one was his favourite of all he’d seen. She played an American journalist reporting on war in the middle east who’d uncovered atrocities committed by rogue soldiers from the United Nations. It was a worthy story like all the ones she’d produced, but she was particularly intense in this, her dark eyes speaking volumes with just one look. It was fascinating.

There was no doubt she was a good actress, not one of those A-list film stars who lived in Hollywood but better in his opinion, not that he was biased at all. Since he’d decided to buy a table at her fundraiser he’d refrained from Googling anything about her. He liked the mystery that remained even though he knew her name and what she did, and now they were likely to meet again he wanted to let things take a more natural course, whatever that might be.

When the film was over he got dressed, choosing his black Tom Ford tuxedo suit, the one with the satin trim, because it was a black tie event. He picked out a white dress shirt and black bowtie, checked himself in the mirror, pleased with what he saw. A memory came back to him as he preened his hair, of Red in the bar, teasing him about thinking he was James Bond. Wait until she saw him dressed like this! He laughed, teased a curl into place and then checked himself one last time. His driver texted to say he was waiting, and Marcus picked up his wallet, checking his Amex card was there. He suspected it was going to get a battering tonight at the auction.

It took an hour in the early evening traffic to get to the filmmaker’s country estate deep in the bowels of Berkshire. This was commuter country for the wealthy who worked in London but didn’t want to live there. The houses were clustered into sprawling villages and some of them probably cost almost as much as the Kane family home in Dorset but were a tenth the size. He watched as house after house slipped by. He’d die out here, strangled to death by the honeysuckle and the boredom. At least in Dorset there was the sea and the cliffs, a sense of possibility. They say when you’re tired of London you’re tired of life, and Marcus thought that was true, couldn’t imagine living permanently anywhere else.

The filmmaker’s estate was huge, with wrought iron gates and high walls surrounding it. There was a long, gravel driveway and then the house came into view. An old manor house, with sandstone brick, huge gables and multiple chimneys. It looked institutional to Marcus, like an old school in a Dickens novel where everything seemed perfect on the outside but inside unspeakable cruelties happened. Documentary filmmaking must be a lucrative business. Whoever this guy was he could surely finance Abby’s film out of his own pocket. Then again, so could Marcus, probably, not that he knew how much it cost to produce a film. Hundreds of thousands, millions even. Maybe he'd find out tonight.

He was shown into a long rectangular room that must have been a ballroom in a previous life. It had a polished wooden floor and pale blue plaster walls hung with portraits of crusty old men and women in powdered wigs. There was usually a bedroom in a place like this that claimed to have hosted a royal body or two – Henry the Eighth or Queen Victoria the usual suspects.

His table was four rows from the front which was perfect. Close enough to see clearly but not so close that he would be in Abby’s face. He didn’t know how she was going to react to seeing him, or what he was going to say if or when she approached him. He’d decided to play it all by ear. He scanned the room as he walked down the centre; there was no sign of Red. He saw a couple of people he knew, clients of Kane International, and nodded as he passed them. Sinclair was already at the table, along with people from both their companies, and Marcus was glad he’d agreed to come as a representative of The Sinclair Group. It wasn’t as though he needed a wingman, but he’d figured if it didn’t work out with Abby at least he’d have a friend here and could make the most of the trip out to this hellhole of a county.

Sinclair stood as he approached. “Was beginning to think you’d chickened out,” he said, pulling Marcus into a brief hug.

“Just fashionably late.”

“They say the older you get the longer it takes to maintain yourself.” Sinclair moved to ruffle Marcus’s hair but he batted him away.

“Perfection is worth the effort.”

Sinclair snorted. “You never change.”

Marcus shrugged and smiled. “Thank you for coming.”

“How could I refuse the chance to see the woman who’s got Marcus Kane’s knickers in a twist.”

“You behave yourself.”

Sinclair smirked. Marcus took a seat next to his friend. He picked up a menu, perused it. It was all vegetarian, which somehow didn’t surprise him. Was Red a vegetarian? The main course was saffron risotto, wine glazed shallot and mange tout finished with shredded radicchio and snipped chive, which sounded fine to Marcus. He ate too much meat anyway, had started to notice a slight thickening of his waist, not much, but enough to have him swimming a hundred lengths at least once a day. Everyone knew forty was the start of the slippery slope to middle age spread, and he was already a month past that age. It was downhill from here if he didn’t keep control of himself.

He small talked with Sinclair while the room filled with people, scanning the crowd occasionally for people he knew, or for Red. There was still no sign of her. He was starting to wonder if this was a mistake, if she’d be mortified by seeing him here, send him packing with his tail between his legs and without so much as a doggy bag. Maybe she’d be right to do that.

“What’s up with you?” said Sinclair, intruding into his musings.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re huffing and puffing and you look like someone’s spoiled your Christmas.” Sinclair screwed up his face to mimic Marcus’s expression.

“I’m just wondering if this was a mistake.”

“You mean stalking a woman you’ve met once and turning up at her fundraiser?” said Sinclair, amused.

“When you put it like that...”

“Look, Kane. You both enjoyed your night together, right?”

“I thought so at the time.”

“You saw her in a magazine and liked the thought of seeing her again and finding out if she wants to see you. I don’t see what’s wrong with that. She can only tell you to fuck off.”

“True.”

“That has to have happened to you many times before.”

“Hardly,” said Marcus, nudging Sinclair playfully.

“It will be fine.”

Marcus nodded, but Sinclair didn’t know the whole story. He hadn’t told him about her look the next morning, or her boyfriend back in the States. This was all a huge gamble.

There was movement on a makeshift stage at the front of the room and the lights dimmed, spotlights shining instead on a man in a bright blue tuxedo. He had long brown hair and a neat beard. He was one of those people whose age could be anything from an old thirty to a young fifty.

“Welcome everyone. I’m Roan, and we’re all here to help raise funds to finance a great film called Finding Amy, which is being independently financed and produced and will be filmed entirely in London using predominantly local actors and crew. You’ve already contributed by buying a table for this event, but I’d like to encourage you to dig deep in your pockets throughout the evening, because the more money we get, the better the film will be. We have entertainment for you tonight from the Lavender Hill Band, who are from Clapham where Finding Amy is set, and shortly you’ll be fed a wonderful meal catered by back on track charity, Busy Bees, who support people who have been homeless or have mental health problems by giving them on the job training. I’m sure you’ll find it in your bank accounts to support them as well.

“But first, I’d like to introduce you to the person behind all of this, an actress and campaigner for whom the story of Amy is close to her heart, but I’ll let her tell you about that. May I introduce... Ms Abby Griffin.”

A round of polite British applause accompanied Abby’s arrival on the stage. She was stunning in an ivory off the shoulder, sleeveless wraparound dress that split above the knee. Her brown hair was shiny and hung in delicately teased waves, and a broad smile lit up her face.

“Wow!” said Sinclair, leaning towards Marcus.

“Yeah,” said Marcus, his pulse racing at the sight of her like it had in the bar. He could smell her again, that musky scent she’d worn that had so intoxicated him. He was glad she hadn’t worn the red dress because that would have been his undoing.

He listened rapt as she outlined the story of Amy and her struggle, and how she’d been moved and inspired to make the film because of something that had happened in her own life. Her best friend in childhood had struggled with being gay like Amy had, and unfortunately she’d taken her life at just sixteen.

“So you can see why making this movie is so important to me, but it’s not about me and my experience. What shocked and upset me was that twenty years had passed between my friend’s death and Amy’s, and it seemed as though nothing had changed. Young people still feel unwelcome and unaccepted and as though being gay is something to be ashamed about. I don’t blame them for feeling that way, I blame society, all of us, for not creating a world where people can live as they want without fear or shame. I wanted to make this movie to bring Amy’s story to as wide an audience as possible, and to take part in the conversation that I know is happening around sexuality, and needs to be talked about more. It isn’t shameful to love, or to want, or to have desire, and our young people need not only to know that but to feel it in their hearts and souls. I hope you will enjoy the evening, and find it in your own hearts to donate and help us bring Amy’s story to life. Thank you.”

Her story was moving, and Marcus felt guilty for coming here and thinking only about himself, and his own wants and desires. His thoughts of seducing her and embarking on some wild sexual adventure seemed as shallow as they undoubtedly were. What had he been thinking?

\---

Abby looked out across the room as she finished her speech. The lights were dim, but she could tell all the tables were filled. Roan had said it was a sell-out, and it seemed as though everyone who’d bought tickets had come. That was pleasing in itself, and she was hopeful of a good return financially, as well as increased interest in the movie. The fundraisers she’d held in the States before leaving had paid for the trip and the cast and crew, but she had ambitions for this movie, wanted to do the best job she could. It was what both girls deserved. Hopefully, this British crowd would dig deep, although Roan had said they could be reserved, didn’t like to flash their cash. Tonight would tell.

As she left the stage her eye was taken by someone sitting on one of the tables a few rows back. A jolt of recognition hit her like a lightning bolt, sending a warm shiver through her body. Surely it wasn’t him? It couldn’t be! She didn’t want to stand and stare so she walked off and then stood in the shadows where she could see his table but wouldn’t be seen herself. The man’s head was bent as he talked to a guy with black curly hair next to him, but she couldn’t see clearly. Then the lights went back up and he lifted his head, laughing at his companion. The dark, wavy hair and long nose were unmistakable. It was him! Penthouse Guy! What was he doing here? He must have recognised her surely. Had he come here to see her or was this an unbelievable coincidence?

“That went well.” Roan’s voice came from behind her and she turned to look at him.

“Yeah? They were quiet with their applause.”

“You won’t get rich British people screaming and shouting. Trust me, you went down well.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Listen, do you know who’s at that table there, the one a few rows back.” She pointed at Penthouse Guy’s table and Roan pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it.

“Table seven, that’s taken by Kane International and The Sinclair Group.”

“Do you know what they do?”

“Never heard of them. They were last minute purchasers, got the last table actually.”

“I see.”

“You want me to introduce you?”

“No, no. Not yet. I just thought I recognised the guy with the dark hair.”

Roan peered out at the room. “I don’t know him, but if he’s not in the arts then I won’t. A lot of these people are financiers, high rollers.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Dinner is slightly delayed. Some disaster in the kitchen, I don’t know what.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be at the table in a minute.”

Roan left and Abby looked out at Penthouse Guy. What to do? She’d wanted to see him again and now here he was right in front of her. She was intrigued about who he was and what he was doing here, but if she went out and made conversation with him what would that signal? Starting something would be such a bad idea and yet she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. What were the odds of seeing him again in a city of nine million people? It felt like fate, even though she didn’t really believe in that.

As she watched him, he looked in her direction. She was certain he couldn’t see her, but he stared for a long time, and her pulse started to race as memories of their night together crowded into her brain, heating her blood until she was throbbing almost painfully. She had to talk to him, get the lay of the land, but casually. She still remembered his disappointed look the morning after and didn’t want to put herself out there too obviously. He was here, though, presumably knew who she was and hadn’t run away, so that was a good enough sign to encourage her into a move.

She put her shoulders back, held her head high and walked out into the room. She stopped to shake hands with people on the front tables, spoke a few words, thanked them for coming. She was aware of him ahead, like a beacon pulsing out a bright light, or maybe more like a black hole, drawing her in to her doom. Yes, that was more likely. She laughed softly and the woman who was talking to her beamed as though Abby had responded to her. She smiled, then moved on. His table was next, and as she approached, she saw him exchange a glance with the guy next to him, so they both knew who she was. He’d told this guy about her. Okay then.

“Hi!” she said, giving the whole table her warmest smile. “Thank you so much for taking a table at my fundraiser. I’m so grateful for your generosity.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” said the guy with the curly hair.

“And you are?” said Abby, holding out her hand.

“Jacapo Sinclair,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it.

“So that makes you Kane International, I presume?” she said to Penthouse Guy.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice gravelly. He coughed to clear his throat. “Marcus Kane, owner, CEO.” He took her proffered hand and shook it firmly. His touch sent electricity shooting through Abby’s body, and from the look on his face he’d felt it too.

“Would you mind if I had a quick word with you?” she said, moving away from the table so he had no choice but to follow.

“Not at all.”

She led him to an adjacent room containing a large wooden desk and leather chair. The walls were lined with bookshelves and there was a lingering smell of cigar smoke. Roan’s study, perhaps. She perched on the edge of the desk, regarded Penthouse Guy as coolly as she could given how hot she was feeling. He was wearing a dark suit with shiny lapels and a black bow tie and he was even more handsome than she remembered. It was impossible to look at him and not think about their night together. She’d have to bring all her acting skills to bear.

“I take it you remember me, know who I am?”

He smiled lopsidedly, his dark eyes boring into hers. “I remember you very well.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I have a table. I’m supporting your fundraiser.” He spoke with the same challenging arrogance he had that night in the bar. It had turned her on then and it was doing the same thing now. Keep cool, Abby.

“Clearly, but, erm, did you know who I was before you came here? Did you know when we met?”

“I didn’t know when we met. I saw an article about you in a magazine, read about your fundraiser.”

“And you thought you’d come along and donate to my cause, out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I wish I could say my motives were purely philanthropic, but the truth is I wanted to see you again. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since that night.” He took a step towards her and Abby’s pulse throbbed.

“I see. Thank you for being honest.”

“What about you?” he said, taking another step. Two more and he’d be close enough to touch.

“What about me?”

“Have you thought about that night?”

“I...”

One more step. She could smell him now, the spiced wood she recalled from that night. Warm. Inviting.

“If you don’t want me here, I will go,” he murmured.

“I don’t want you to go. I need your money,” Abby said, pitching her voice equally as low.

He laughed, and then he took the final step, reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Have you thought about that night?” he said again.

“Yes,” she said breathily, and then he closed the final distance between them, his head bending towards her, his eyes focused on her lips. She moved towards him, and her mouth was millimetres from his when there was a creak and she looked past him to see the heavy door opening. Marcus stepped back, and Abby got off the desk, stood straight, grateful they hadn’t had time to get any closer as her assistant, Raven, walked in.

“There you are, Abby! Someone said you’d come in here.” She glanced at Marcus, smiled. “Oh, hi!”

“Raven, this is Marcus Kane, a, erm, potential investor.”

“Oh, cool. Nice to meet you. They’re about to serve dinner, Abby.”

“Great! I’ll be there in a tick.”

Raven nodded and left. Abby looked at Marcus. He seemed cool and unperturbed, but she was sure her face was flushed.

“Do you think she noticed anything?” she said.

“There was nothing to notice,” he replied, his brown eyes twinkling.

Abby took a deep breath. “We’d better go to the dinner.”

She headed for the door and he followed. She had one hand on the jamb when she felt him touch her arm. She turned to look at him.

“Do you want me to stay, then?” he said.

“Yes,” she whispered.

They walked out into the ballroom. It had got busy while they were gone, the catering staff bustling around serving people their meals, pouring glasses of wine. Abby was about to leave Marcus at his table when a man came up to her and she groaned loud enough for Marcus to hear because he looked at her sharply.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, unable to answer because the man was upon them. She fixed a smile on her face. “Hello, Thelonious,” she said.

“Abby.” Thelonious Jaha gripped her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. Abby tried not to grimace.

“I take it you’ve bought a table?”

“Of course I have. Anything to support you, you know that.”

“You’re too kind.”

“It’s a pleasure. Perhaps we can...”

She didn’t give him chance to finish the sentence because she knew what it would be and didn’t want to hear it. “I must go. Roan is expecting me.”

“Of course, of course.” Jaha bowed his head but didn’t move. Abby couldn’t risk saying anything to Marcus in front of him, so she smiled at them both.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, and then she hurried along the rows to her table at the front where Roan and her team were waiting.

\---

Marcus resumed his seat next to Sinclair, watching as Abby made her way to a table at the front. She was seated with her back to him, so there was unfortunately no opportunity to catch her eye again.

“Well?” said Sinclair impatiently.

Marcus smiled nonchalantly.

“Bloody hell!” said Sinclair, smiling back. “How do you do it?”

“When you’re this good looking...”

Sinclair shook his head. “She’s gorgeous; I’m not a bit jealous.”

“Hey, you have a beautiful wife, and how many kids now?”

“Three. I know, but still...”

“She didn’t kick me out, that’s all I can say. I don’t know what will happen next if anything.”

“Well, I’m here for you, and any details you want to send my way.”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Since when?” said Sinclair with a snort. “You were always boasting about your exploits at college.”

“Since I hooked up with your wife in your pool room. Have you never wondered why all your kids look like me?” He smirked at Sinclair and received a thump on the arm in response.

“My wife wouldn’t stoop so low.”

Marcus smiled as he picked up his fork and started to eat his food. He’d forgotten how much fun it was teasing Sinclair. He glanced at Abby again. She’d said she wanted him to stay, but what did that mean? He tingled with anticipation at the possibilities.

After the meal and a couple of songs from the band the main part of the evening began which was the auction, the first few items run by Roan. There were some interesting things and some ridiculous ones. Marcus bid on and won a box set of some awful-sounding American TV series Abby had been in, and some film merchandise, earning a derogatory look from Sinclair for his efforts.

“They’re for Georgina,” he said. “She’s a big fan.”

“Yeah, right.”

Sinclair won a champagne cruise and tried to persuade Marcus to join him in a bid for a flight for two in a Tiger Moth airplane, which to Marcus looked like something from the early days of flight and therefore not to be trusted. He refused, citing a wish to continue living.

After a break for some music, Abby joined Roan on the stage and the atmosphere livened up. She was good at whipping the crowd up, getting them excited, which was no surprise to Marcus, who’d been on the happy receiving end of her enthusiasm. He drank more wine, bid on a couple more items and lost, and felt good, happy even, which was rare.

“We have one final item,” said Roan, as the applause for the previous winner died down. “I’ve told her not to do this because none of you look good enough for her, but she’s a glutton for punishment. Abby has kindly agreed to donate herself as a prize in the auction.”

“A date with me, not my entire self, don’t get carried away!” interjected Abby.

There was laughter as well as murmurs of interest from the audience. Sinclair nudged Marcus.

“Here’s your chance.”

“I don’t need to win a date with her,” said Marcus, whose interest was piqued nevertheless.

“You said you don’t know what will happen next. Maybe this is meant to be.”

Marcus ignored him, settled back in his chair with his drink in his hand. He left his bidding paddle on the table, determined not to touch it.

“Who’s going to start me at a thousand pounds?” said Roan.

To Marcus’s horror, Sinclair’s arm shot in the air, holding Marcus’s paddle.

“There we go! A brave first bidder. Thank you, erm, Kane International,” said Roan.

Marcus leant on his elbow, covering his face with his hand as he felt eyes turn towards their table. Abby would be looking, wondering what was going on.

“I’m going to kill you,” he said through gritted teeth to Sinclair.

“It’s just some fun. It’ll be fine.”

Other people joined in the bidding and Marcus dared to look up. Abby was scanning the room, an amused look on her face. Then a loud voice doubled the bid in one go, and her smile faded. Marcus turned to see who it was – the guy who’d come up to her earlier, Thelonium or something. She didn’t look happy at his bid. Every time someone else bid, the guy bid more. The bidding was at five thousand pounds when Marcus felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see Abby’s assistant, Raven. She handed him a note and then left. He glanced at Sinclair and then opened the note. It was one line in a small, neat hand.

_Please bid more than him. I’ll cover the cost. Abby_

“What does it say?” said Sinclair, trying to peer over Marcus’s shoulder.

“Abby wants me to win the auction.”

“What? Oh, my God. She really does want you!”

“I don’t think it’s that,” said Marcus. He waited for Thelonium to make his next bid before making his own. “Six thousand!” he said, waving his paddle in the air. He looked at Abby, and she nodded and smiled.

The other guy wasn’t for quitting easily, and the amount crept up until it was at eight thousand pounds and Marcus was getting frustrated that he’d never win the thing. He decided to try and put an end to it once and for all with a ridiculous bid the guy couldn’t possibly match. He had no intention of taking any money off Abby, so he didn’t feel any guilt about doing it.

“Fifteen thousand pounds!” he said boldly, to gasps from the audience.

“I think we have a winner!” said Roan.

Marcus waited for the other guy to counter bid, but there was silence.

“Congratulations to Kane International.”

“I hope it won’t be a trip to McDonalds because you’ve spent all your money,” said Abby, and everyone laughed.

The band started playing again and the noise of conversation filled the room.

“That was exciting!” said Sinclair, patting Marcus on the back.

“Yeah.” It had been thrilling, but he was curious as to why she hadn’t wanted the other guy to win. Who was he, and what had he done?

A short while later Abby came over to their table and sat in one of the vacant seats. Most of Marcus’s colleagues had kids and had gone home early. There was only him and Sinclair and a couple of Sinclair’s staff who only had eyes for each other.

“Did you enjoy your evening?” she said, looking at them both.

“Most enjoyable,” said Sinclair. “Has it been profitable for you?”

“I can’t complain. Everyone’s been very generous.”

“How much does it cost to finance an independent film, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No, I don’t mind. You’re investors effectively after all. This production is going to cost a couple million dollars at least to make, and then there’s distribution and theatrical releases to pay for. That’s the bare minimum. The sky’s the limit in some ways. The more money you get, the better equipment you can afford, better sets etcetera. I try to produce high quality on a budget, which isn’t easy.”

“Your films always look high quality,” said Marcus.

“Oh, you’ve seen them, have you?” Abby raised her eyebrows in amusement, and Marcus realised what he’d admitted with that careless sentence.

“My sister is a fan, she showed me a couple after, you know, the magazine.”

“I see. Is that who the box set is for, or is that for you?” She nodded in the direction of the merchandise he’d bought.

“It’s for her.”

“Shall I sign them for her? Would she like that?”

“Yes, sure, she’d be delighted.” Marcus passed the items to Abby and she took a pen out of her purse.

“I’m never without my sharpie,” she said. “What’s her name?”

“Georgina, but she prefers Georgie.”

“Okay.”

He watched as she wrote a neat note on each item and signed it.

“That’s very kind of you,” he said, feeling as though he’d slipped into some kind of parallel fandom universe.

“No problem. Hey, maybe she’d like to come on our date with us. What do you think?”

“She’s only thirteen,” he said, not keen at all on the idea of dragging Georgina to his date with Abby.

“Thirteen? Oh, wow.” She frowned. “How old... I thought you were... how old are you, then?”

“He’s forty,” said Sinclair before Marcus could answer, “but he likes to think he looks half that.”

“I don’t think that!” said Marcus, glowering at Sinclair.

“I should hope not because that would make you seriously deluded,” said Abby, causing Sinclair to splurt wine over the table as he laughed.

“Oh, I like you! I like her, Kane.”

Abby smiled, and then she pushed back her chair and stood. “Thank you for coming, and for your more than generous donations. Marcus, I was thinking of taking a stroll in the gardens it’s such a beautiful evening. Do you want to join me so we can discuss our date if you have time?”

“That would be, erm, yes, sure.” His heart thumped against his chest at her suggestion, and what it might mean.

“I’m going to go home before the wife starts wondering where I am,” said Sinclair. “Thank you for a wonderful night, Abby.”

“You’re welcome, Jacapo. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Just call me Sinclair, everyone does.” He gathered up his things, winked at Marcus out of sight of Abby, and then left.

Abby looked at Marcus. “Shall we go?” she said.

\---

“What’s the issue with that Thelonium guy?” said Marcus as they walked through hallway after hallway in search of a door. He’d taken off his jacket and loosened his bow tie and somehow looked even sexier than before.

“Thelonium!” said Abby laughing. “Oh, that’s awesome. It’s Thelonious, Thelonious Jaha. He’s a businessman, and also a fan. He’s very supportive, but a little overbearing, you know. There’s something about him. He kind of gives me the creeps, and I hate to say that about someone, but he’s always there wherever I go, that’s how it feels anyway. It would have been uncomfortable for me if he’d won the date. I guess I didn’t really think that idea through.”

“I was happy to step in.”

“It was good of you, and I will refund you the minute I get to my office on Monday.” Abby opened a door and was relieved to find it led outside. She was beginning to think they’d be lost forever in a maze of hallways.

“There’s no need to do that. I’d like to donate the money.”

“It’s a lot of money.” She stepped outside into the cool night air with Marcus following. It was nearly midnight, with only the moon and a few lanterns scattered throughout the trees to light up the dark.

“It’s fine. Please allow me.”

“Okay. Thank you. You’re very generous.” She glanced around, couldn’t see anyone, so she linked her arm through his. He put his hand on hers to hold her in place and she felt that frisson of electrical energy again.

They walked down a gravel path lined with flowers and shrubs. There was night blooming jasmine somewhere, Abby could smell it. “This is so beautiful,” she said. “I adore your English gardens.”

“We are famous for them apparently.”

“I have a small courtyard in New York and a lot of window boxes.”

They turned and walked along a path that had beds either side scented with herbs and lavender. Ahead was a wrought iron gate set into a brick wall covered in something climbing. Roses she thought, and clematis. Abby had clematis growing over her pergola at home. She loved its bright purple flowers, so calming and peaceful. Marcus opened the gate and held it so she could walk through. She brushed against him as she passed, the contact making her pulse race.

They found themselves in a long rectangular garden with walls on all four sides. The garden was split into beds each teeming with flowers and shrubs carved into shapes. The moonlight gave everything an ethereal quality.

“Amazing!” She sighed, leant against the wall. Marcus stood in front of her, silently watching her. “It was a real surprise to see you today,” she said.

“When I saw you in the magazine I had to try.” He moved closer to her, his eyes roaming her face.

“I’m glad you did. I’ve thought about that night constantly.”

“So have I.”

He put his hand on her cheek, brought her to him, and then his lips were on hers, his fingers in her hair, and they were kissing passionately. It was crazy, because she barely knew him, but it felt so good and she’d wanted it since the moment she’d set eyes on him in the ballroom. She couldn’t help herself. She leaned back against the wall as his lips moved from her mouth to her throat, kissing his way across her bare shoulder. He groaned, and Abby moaned, and it was like it was in the elevator, when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

He reached down, his hand finding the split in her dress, fingers trailing slowly up her inner thigh until they found the edge of her panties. She moaned as he rubbed her through them, and then her moans turned to a loud groan as he slipped beneath, finding her wetness, stroking it.

“This is what I’ve been thinking about,” he whispered into her ear. “How wet you were, how turned on.”

He put a finger inside her, and she pulsed at his words and gripped him. He eased in another, fucked her with them. He found her mouth again with his lips, his kisses pressing her against the wall as his fingers worked her, and then suddenly he was gone, and she opened her eyes to see him dropping to his knees. He pulled her panties down around her ankles and she stepped out of one leg. The other got caught in the high heel of her strappy sandals so she left it there. He pushed the skirt of her dress up over her waist, then spread her wide and put the flat of his tongue on her, licking her, the tip of his tongue curling against her clit.

“Oh, God!” Abby cried. He teased her with his tongue, flicking it against her before moving to a more circular rhythm. She put her hands on his head, curled her fingers into his hair and rocked against him. “God, don’t stop, don’t stop!” she cried again and then she was coming hard against him, panting with the pleasure of it. He stayed on his knees, lapping at her gently until the waves dissipated, and then he stood, half smiling at her in the moonlight.

“Better than I remembered,” he murmured, causing something in Abby’s stomach to flip.

“Thank you,” she said. She put one arm around his neck and dragged him to her, kissing him, his lips sticky with her juices. Her other hand slipped to his pants, caressing the hard outline of his cock.

“I want this,” she said. “I’ve thought about little else.”

He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his back while he carried her across the garden to a bench. He sat on it with Abby straddling him. She reached between them, unzipped his pants and put her hand inside, feeling the warmth of him. When she pulled his cock out it stood firm, already rock hard and wet at the tip. She ran her thumb over it, gathering up the juice before placing her thumb in her mouth and sucking it off. Marcus groaned so loudly she figured anyone nearby would hear, but they were safe from prying eyes in their walled paradise.

“God, you’re hot,” he said, putting his hands on her ass and lifting her.

Abby took the hint and shifted so she was over him, holding his cock straight in her hand so she could sink down on it. “Oh, that’s so good,” she said as he filled her. She leaned forward, put her hands on the bench behind him and rode him, slowly at first and then faster as he guided her with his hands. Her breasts rubbed against his face with every pass, and he captured one of her hard nipples, sucking at it through the silky material.

Marcus wasn’t a passive lover, which she knew from their first times. He rose to meet her so their bodies were slamming together and he was deep within her, hitting a spot that felt so good, like when you find the centre of an itch and the pleasure is an exquisite relief. The bench creaked, and their moans echoed off the walls. Abby didn’t care now if anyone could hear or see them. She was close again, so close. Wanted it. Needed it. She opened her eyes and looked down at him and he looked up at her, holding her gaze. His hair had come loose from the force of their efforts, that curl flopping down again.

“Your hair,” she said between pants. “I’ve thought about that curl, the way it flops down. I thought about it that night when you were above me.”

“Yeah?” he said, gripping her tighter.

“Yeah. I’ve thought about it, and I’ve touched myself, and I came so hard thinking about it. It was so good.”

“God,” he said, drawing out the word so it became a moan.

They rocked faster and it felt explosive when he came inside her, a rush of him, pulse after pulse. Abby’s own release was pure heat and relief. They both let out long sighs.

“Fuck!” said Marcus as she climbed off him and slumped on the bench beside him. “That was even better than the first night. I don’t know how, but it was.”

“Anticipation,” said Abby, and they both laughed softly.

Her head felt heavy suddenly and she leant it against his shoulder. He put his arm around her, and it felt warm and comfortable. Her body was still buzzing from the sex, from his touch. How could it be this good with someone she didn’t even know? She’d always thought sex was better when you knew each other inside and out, but Marcus seemed to understand her body instinctively, and she was at ease telling him what she wanted, how she felt. She’d never been shy in that department, but couldn’t have imagined being this way with a virtual stranger.

“That was so amazing,” she said, turning to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I could stay if you want. We have all night.”

God, the thought was tempting, but it wasn’t the right place or time. “It’s not that I don’t want, but it’s not my place, and... it could be complicated.”

He turned so they were facing each other. “I know you have a boyfriend. It was in the article. I won’t make things difficult for you.”

She was surprised to hear he knew about that though she shouldn’t have been. She’d forgotten about the article until he’d mentioned it earlier, hadn’t read it since it was published. It clearly didn’t bother him, otherwise he wouldn’t have done what they just had.

“It’s not that, well it is, I suppose. Me and him... we’re on the rocks. I’ll tell you the full story I promise, but I’m not cheating, not to my mind anyway, but it’s Hollywood, you know, the business we’re in. I have to keep up appearances, not for me but for him, at least for now. I can’t be seen with anyone. It can’t be known.”

“I understand that. It’s fine with me, honestly. I don’t want anything... it doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is.”

“Something discreet?”

“Yes. It will just be me and you. In private. Doing unspeakable things to each other.” He grinned.

“I like the sound of that.” She kissed him again, then sighed. “I guess I should be getting back. Do you have a ride home?”

“My driver will be waiting.”

“Oh, God, the poor guy!”

“He’s used to it.”

Abby felt something at his words, not shock really, but something indefinable. It must have showed in her face because he put his hand on hers.

“I don’t make a habit of this. Okay, well I do, but what I’m trying very clumsily to say is that I’m a one woman at a time kind of man. There won’t be anyone else while we’re... being discreet.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t expect that, Marcus.”

“No, I do. My moral bar may be set low, but that’s one of my standards. I’ve always stuck to it. It’s not just for you.” His lopsided smile was soft, shy almost, which was a side of him she hadn’t seen until now. She pushed the image of it down in the hope it would stay there, because it made her feel warm and she didn’t want to complicate this anymore than it already was.

She stood, and Marcus stood with her. They headed towards the gate, and then he stopped, bent, and picked something up. He dangled them in front of her.

“Your knickers!” he said, laughing.

“Oh, my God. I’d forgotten about them.”

“I don’t think you’re going to want to put them back on. They’re kind of gritty.”

Abby took them from him and balled them up in her hand. They walked through the gate and back down the path towards the house.

“Knickers,” she said with a soft laugh. “I love that word. It’s fun. So much better than panties. I think I’m going to call them that from now on.”

“I shall enjoy taking your knickers off you from now on,” he said, making Abby giggle.

They walked arm in arm back into the house, which was quieter, with only the cleaning staff left. In the ballroom Marcus gathered his things and Abby stuffed her knickers in her bag and rummaged for her wallet. She pulled out a card and handed it to him.

“My number. Call me,” she said.

He took the card, his fingers stroking hers. “I will.”

A man passed pushing a vacuum cleaner, and two women with large trash bags smiled at Abby as they cleared the tables of the night’s debris. There was no opportunity for any further contact with Marcus, which was a shame because she felt the urge to kiss him one last time. Better to wait, build up the anticipation again.

“Goodnight, Abby,” he said, and then he turned and walked out of the room.

She watched him go, his jacket slung over his shoulder. She’d started something now, and there was no saying where it was going to lead. Casual and discreet they’d agreed. How long would that last?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Abby have a date with a difference!

“I can’t believe this is happening!” said Georgina, her voice high with excitement.

“Not so stupid now, am I?” said Marcus.

“No. You’re the best!”

He glanced at her and smiled. She had a broad grin on her face, her eyes sparkling. They were driving down the M4 motorway towards London in his E-type Jaguar, Marcus having spent a couple of days in Dorset at the family home. He hadn’t been thrilled when Abby had insisted on him bringing Georgina to their date during one of their phone conversations but had to admit the child’s happiness gave him some pleasure.

“She definitely insisted on me coming, right?” said Georgina.

“Yes, I told you that.”

“I know! It’s just... it’s so kind of her! I mean I shouldn’t be surprised really cos she comes across like that in her films and stuff you know and all the interviews I’ve read about her but you never know, do you, what someone’s like in real life. I really can’t believe this!”

He let her prattle on, grunting every now and then so she’d think he was listening. It was a beautiful day and he had the top down even though it was blowing his hair all over the place. Abby would have to put up with the rugged look today. They were meeting for lunch at a pizza restaurant near Clapham Common and she’d invited them both to visit the nearby set of her film afterwards.

Georgina had been beside herself since he’d told her about the trip when he’d arrived home, and he’d spent most of one of his vacation days in the nearby town of Swanage holding her backpack while she tried on endless dresses. She’d finally settled for a sleeveless stripy thing paired with a denim jacket from Next. He was sure he’d seen her in something practically identical before but had received only a heavy sigh when he’d mentioned that.

He'd gone for a casual look himself – olive green chinos, brown polished brogues and a pale blue shirt, the top few buttons undone of course. He wanted to look effortless, which required a lot of effort. They slowed as they hit the London traffic, and it was another twenty minutes before they were hunting along the streets of Clapham for a parking space. When he’d found one and paid, they walked along the block towards the restaurant. With the pizza place in sight he stopped and looked at Georgina.

“You’re going to behave yourself now, aren’t you?”

She pulled a face. “Of course I am!”

“I mean it, pipsqueak. Abby is a busy person and she’s doing us a huge favour giving up her time to be with us. I don’t want her messed around.”

“You don’t want me to ruin your chances with her you mean.” She put her hands on her hips and smirked at him. God, she was perceptive, or a lucky guesser, not that she was right of course, because that ship had well and truly sailed, and he and Abby were both on it. He didn’t want her to know that, though.

“I just want us to have a nice time, that’s all.”

“Look, Marcus,” she said, sounding for a moment so like their mother it was unnerving. “I’m not an idiot. It’s amazing that she’s invited me and I’m really excited about meeting her. I’m not going to mess it up.”

“Okay. I trust you.” He peered into a shop window, ran his fingers through his hair. “How do I look?” he said.

“Like you always do.”

“You’re no use,” he said, putting his arm around her and squeezing her shoulder. She squirmed away from him and he grabbed her again and they battled that way as they walked towards the door of the restaurant, laughing at each other. As he went to open the door, Georgina put her hand on his arm.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Will you not call me pipsqueak while we’re with Abby? It’s not that I don’t like it, but you know... I’d rather you called me Georgie in front of her.”

Unexpected emotion welled inside Marcus as Georgina looked up at him hopefully. He’d been concerned about her embarrassing him and hadn’t considered she might be thinking the same, or that she was worried what Abby might think of her.

“I promise,” he said, pressing a kiss to her warm head.

Abby was already in the restaurant, sitting at a table for four at the back. She stood when she saw them. She was wearing grey skinny jeans and a silky white blouse. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and her makeup was minimal. She truly was effortlessly stunning.

“Hi!” she said, smiling at them. “You must be Georgie.” She held out her hand and Georgie took it. “Am I okay to get a hug?” said Abby.

“Yeah,” said Georgie breathlessly. Marcus watched as Abby swept her up into a warm hug.

“I love your dress. Stripes are my favourite.”

“Marcus bought it for me yesterday.”

“Did he?” Abby looked up at him. “Hi,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for inviting us,” said Marcus, feeling ridiculously awkward for some reason.

“We’re here because of you and your generosity. Shall we sit, have a look at the menu. I’m starving!”

Georgie took the seat next to Abby, so Marcus sat opposite her. He picked up the menu, saw there was a pizza with spicy sausage and decided on that one.

“What’s your favourite pizza, Georgie?” said Abby.

“I like pepperoni.”

“Oh, me too. There’s a pizzeria near where I live in New York that does the most amazing pepperoni slices.”

“I didn’t think you’d eat normal food,” Georgie said, making Abby laugh.

“Oh, I love my food, I just don’t eat too much and I try to exercise when I can.”

“Marcus exercises a lot too. When he’s home he’s always swimming. He thinks he’s starting to spread.”

“Does he?” said Abby, smirking at him.

“Georgina!” said Marcus, mortified. “I have never said that.”

“You have. I heard you telling mum and she said it’s because you drink too much.”

“I...” Marcus had rarely been embarrassed in his life, but right now he wished the proverbial hole would open up and swallow Georgina. He didn’t think she was deliberately trying to humiliate him, but that was the result.

“I rarely drink,” Abby said, looking slyly at Marcus. “You can get into trouble that way.”

“Don’t say a word!” said Marcus as Georgie’s mouth started to open to respond. “Shall we decide on our pizzas? I’m sure Abby needs to get back to set.”

“It’s fine,” she replied.

“Are you going to have the pepperoni?” said Georgie.

“I was thinking I would be adventurous and try the one with the spicy sausage.”

“You’re not a vegetarian, then?” said Marcus, thinking back to the meal they’d had at the fundraiser.

“No, but I try to eat meat free most of the week. It’s good for the planet.”

“I was going to have the spicy sausage too, but now I’m thinking I should stick to salad,” he said in an attempt to turn his humiliation into a joke.

“You look fine to me,” said Abby, her eyes lingering on him making him warm.

“I should have spicy sausage then too,” said Georgina.

“Rather than us all having the same thing why don’t we get a couple of different pizzas and some salad and share? What do you think, Georgie?” said Abby.

“If the other one is pepperoni.”

Abby laughed. “That sounds good to me.”

“I’ll place the order,” said Marcus, heading for the counter. When he returned, Abby and Georgie were deep in conversation about her films and he sat and listened for the most part.

“What’s it like being a famous actress?” said Georgie in between taking huge bites of her pizza.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous, but I guess being an actress can be a lot of fun. I get to work with some really cool people and I’m lucky enough to be able to choose projects that I want like Finding Amy and that means a lot to me.”

“I love that story, well I guess love isn’t the right word because it’s so sad but you know what I mean. I was so excited when I read you were going to be making a film of it.”

“That’s lovely to hear. What do you think you got out of the story?”

Georgie glanced nervously at Marcus and he wondered what the hell she was going to say. She was way too young to have thoughts and feelings about anything, wasn’t she? She was still unicorns and flamingos and gymnastics. He stared at her in anticipation.

“I guess I kind of understand how alone she felt, not in the same way but sometimes I get like that too like just lonely you know, like my parents are just so old and Marcus is too and he’s never home. I mean it’s fun when he is some of the time, but it can be... I can be on my own a lot. I have tons of friends, but they go away a lot in the holidays. We never go anywhere my dad’s so boring he thinks it’s a day out if we go into Swanage for a new school uniform and even then he doesn’t want to be there. So, I related to that with Amy cos she felt alone as well.”

Marcus felt sucker-punched at her words. He’d never given a moment’s thought to Georgina’s life stuck out there in Dorset. He’d grown up an only child as well and it hadn’t bothered him. He’d been quite happy to be left alone to do his own thing. He still was. He’d assumed she felt the same.

“You never told me you felt like that, Georgie,” he said.

“You never asked. It’s not a big deal. I’m just saying that I feel like that sometimes.”

Abby took Georgie’s hand and kissed it. “I’ll let you into a little secret if you want. I feel like that a lot too.”

“Do you?” said Georgie staring at Abby wide-eyed.

“Yes. The other side to my job is that I’m often away from my home and I don’t know anybody and sometimes it’s really hard work trying to make new friends all the time and I get lonely quite often.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that because like everybody loves you.”

Abby laughed softly. “There’s a difference between being loved by fans, which can be wonderful don’t get me wrong, and being loved by the people in your life. The best thing you can do is first of all provide yourself with your own entertainment. That’s what I did growing up I was always putting on plays and fooling around. I think that’s why I’m an actress now. And secondly you can tell the people in your life that you want to see them more. I’m sure Marcus would be happy to spend more time with you when he can, wouldn’t you, Marcus?”

She turned to look at him and Marcus nodded automatically, still trying to process everything that was being said. “Of course.”

“And maybe you can be my friend while I’m here and then I won’t be as lonely either. What do you think?”

“I will, yes! You’re so awesome! I want to be an actress as well just like you.”

“I thought you wanted to be an acrobat,” said Marcus, pushing his empty plate aside.

He received an exaggerated shake of her head in response. “I’m going to the bathroom,” Georgie said, getting up.

“Do you need me to...” he said, unsure if she should be going on her own but at a loss as to what he would do if she said yes.

“Oh, my God, Marcus!” She glared at him then flounced across the room towards the toilets.

Marcus raised his hands in despair, looked at Abby. “I don’t know what happened there, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’s adorable. I love her.”

“She’s never said anything like that before. She’s... she’s not neglected.”

“I can tell that. She’s thirteen. I was all over the place at that age, and clearly there’s a big age difference between you. What’s that about by the way if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My mum had me at a young age and they didn’t have any more after that I don’t know why. She thought she was starting the menopause and next thing we knew we had Georgina.”

“She looks so like you it’s the cutest thing. I bet people think she’s your daughter, right?”

“All the time. She hates it when that happens more than me.”

“Why would you hate it?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t know how she did it but somehow Abby made him look at himself and see how shallow and meaningless he was. This was only the third time they’d met and already he felt like everything was turning upside down.

“I guess it doesn’t look good with the ladies, huh?” She grinned, pronged a skinny piece of carrot from the salad bowl and ate it while looking at him.

“It seems to be going down alright with you.”

“She’s teaching me a lot about you today. It’s fun!”

“Good to know you’re interested.”

“Speaking of... when are we next doing unspeakable things to each other?” She picked up a cherry tomato, popped it into her mouth. Marcus’s pulse picked up.

“Whenever you want, although I have a guest tonight,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

“How about Saturday? I’ll come to you. I wouldn’t mind seeing your view again.”

“You can see whatever you want whenever you want.”

Abby smiled. “I’ll bring takeout. Do you have a preference?” Marcus saw her look behind him, and he heard footsteps approaching.

“I’ll eat anything,” he said quietly. He held her gaze, his pulse throbbing, and then Georgie scraped her chair across the floor and plopped into it, breaking the spell.

“Are we having a pudding?” she said.

“A pudding?” said Abby looking confused.

“She means a dessert.”

“Oh. Well, I was thinking maybe you’d like to get something from craft services when we go to the set. They make the most amazing things from chocolate.”

“Oh, yes! That would be awesome. Can we go now?”

“If you like.”

“I’ll pay,” said Marcus.

“It’s only a short walk so I’ll meet you guys there,” said Abby as they stood outside the restaurant.

“Can I walk with you?”

“Sure, if it’s okay with Marcus.”

“Fine by me.”

“Okay, then. You know where you’re going, right? I’ve reserved you a parking space.”

“I do. Thanks. See you there.”

He walked to his car and sat inside for a moment before switching the engine on. He’d never been on a date like that in his life, which was hardly surprising as who would take their kid sister with them? It was more than that, though. He’d never met anyone like Abby before. She was warm and kind and funny, and she’d been great with Georgina. He supposed putting strangers at ease was part of her job, but he thought it was more natural than that. It was who she was.

She may have thought she’d learned some things about him today, but he’d learned some about her as well. She was lonely, and she didn’t feel loved. The boyfriend perhaps; something he’d done. Maybe she’d tell him this Saturday. His heart rate picked up again at the thought of that. He should plan something maybe, something special, but what?

\---

The set was in an empty lot not far from Clapham Common. Marcus pulled into the reserved space and looked around for Abby and Georgie. They were in a queue at a trestle table laid out with food and he walked over to them.

“Hi!” he said and they both turned to look at him, Abby smiling and Georgie grinning, her eyes lit up with happiness.

“We’re getting chocolate muffins!” said Georgie excitedly, as though she’d never eaten one before.

“I’d better pass,” said Marcus, patting his stomach.

“I’ll share one with you, if you like,” said Abby.

The set was busy with people hurrying around looking purposeful. There were tracks on the ground for a large camera to roll along and lighting rigs and more cameras. Cables were everywhere. Abby headed for a row of black chairs near some monitors.

“Have a seat,” she said, sitting in one with Producer on the back.

Marcus sat in one marked 1st AD and Georgie’s said DP. “There’s a lot of people,” he said.

“Yes! Now you know why it costs so much to make a movie.” She split her muffin, handed him half.

“Do you have a trailer?” said Georgie.

“Not an individual one. We don’t have that kind of budget. We have hair and makeup over there,” she said pointing to a large grey campervan, “and the other trailer next to it is wardrobe.”

“Can I go and see them?”

“Sure. I’ll take you after lunch. I’m not on camera myself today, but we’re shooting a scene with the girl who’s playing Amy so you can meet her if you want.”

“This is so cool!”

Abby smiled at Marcus.

“You’re here for six months according to the article,” he said. “Is that how long it takes to make it?”

“The production side yes. We’ve only just started shooting scenes,” said Abby. “Some of the production staff came over before me to get all the paperwork sorted out and the agreements on the buildings we’re using, and then we had to build the main sets. There’s a ton of work before the actors arrive. Then there’s post-production like editing, VFX, that’s any special effects. Some of that will be done here and some when I’m back in the States.”

“And you work on all of that, do you?”

“When I’m acting I just show up and do my job and unless I need to do ADR afterwards – re-recording dialogue – that’s me done. Here, I’m the producer so I’m involved with all aspects of the process. It’s a much more involved job but I love it.”

“I didn’t realise you had so many...,” he was going to say skills and then figured that sounded derogatory, “that there was so much involved for you.”

“You thought I’m here to look pretty.”

“No! No. That’s not what I meant. I just...”

“It’s okay. I’m teasing you.”

She patted his knee and Marcus leaned towards her. “You do look pretty though,” he whispered so Georgie wouldn’t hear.

“So do you today. Very chic,” she replied, her breath warm on his cheek.

“You’re back, Abby,” came an intruding voice. Marcus jumped, feeling guilty as though they’d been caught in flagrante instead of just talking. He looked around to see who had spoken. It was Raven, Abby’s assistant.

“I am, yes. Did everything go alright?”

“Yeah. We’ve done all the blocking so we should be okay to do the first take soon. Jenny has some questions for you, though, about the script.” She noticed Marcus for the first time, smiled. “Oh, hi, erm, Marcus, isn’t it?”

“Marcus and Georgie are here on the date he won at the auction,” said Abby.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I forgot, sorry. I’m Raven,” she said, holding out her hand to Georgie.

“That’s a cool name!” said Georgie.

“Thanks! So’s Georgie. Are you and your dad having a good time?”

“He’s not my dad!” huffed Georgie.

“Oh, right, okay.”

“She’s a stray I found on the street a few years ago,” said Marcus. “Didn’t want to take her in but she followed me everywhere. What can you do?”

Raven stared at him perplexed, then looked at Georgie and back again. “You, erm, you look so alike.”

“It turned out we were long lost siblings,” said Georgie, keeping a straight face.

“Amazing coincidence,” said Marcus.

“I see,” said Raven, and then she laughed. “You’re cute.”

“He’s honestly not my dad, though,” said Georgie.

“Okay. Well, maybe you can tell me all about yourself later. I just need to borrow Abby for a few minutes if that’s okay.”

“I’ll be back soon, guys,” said Abby, a broad smile on her face.

Marcus finished his muffin and looked across at Georgie. “You okay, pipsqueak?”

“Yeah. Abby is so nice, like way better than I thought she would be. No one’s going to believe this when I get back to school. We need to take some pictures. Oh, my God, I totally forgot about that! Will you take some of us, you don’t think she’d mind do you if I asked her for a picture?”

“I’m sure she won’t mind.” Marcus moved to the seat Abby had vacated so he could be next to Georgie. “While it’s just the two of us I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Georgie groaned, but he ignored her.

“What you said in the restaurant, about feeling lonely.”

“Don’t worry about that. I didn’t mean... I don’t really know why I said that. It’s just she asked me what I related to in the book and that was it and it just kind of came out.”

“I’m glad it did, because I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Why would you know, you hardly see me.” There was no accusation in her voice or her eyes when she looked up at him, but he felt like he’d been stabbed nevertheless.

“You’re right. There’s no excuse.”

“You have a busy life, and you’re like really old. You don’t want to hang around with me. I get that.”

Marcus smiled at her comment. “I am really old, but I do want to hang around with you. I’m surprised you want to be with me to be honest.”

“You’re okay sometimes.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. I’ll try to get home more often, and you can come and stay with me if you want. Shall we try once a month, maybe, see how that goes?”

She shrugged. “If you want.”

“You can put makeup on me and plait my hair and we’ll watch chick flicks and gossip about them.”

“Oh, my God, Marcus! No one does that kind of thing. Seriously!”

He laughed, leaned across and tickled her. “Guess it will have to be tickle fights then like we used to do.”

She screamed, and then she was out of her chair and virtually sat on him before he knew what was happening, her hands trying to force his arms away from his chest so she could get at his armpits where she knew he was ticklish.

“You’ll never move me,” he said.

“I will!”

He sat stoically while she grunted and grabbed and tried everything to get to him. There was always the temptation to give into her, but she was merciless if she found his weakness, so he remained firm.

“What on earth are you guys doing?”

Marcus looked up from trying to fend off Georgie to see Abby standing with arms folded, an amused look on her face.

“She’s trying to kill me,” he said as Georgie clambered off him.

“And you being so weak and defenceless.”

“I was trying to get to his armpits,” said Georgie. “He’s ticklish there.”

“Right,” said Abby, nodding, and Marcus got the impression she was storing that information away for future use. “So, how about we go and check out hair and makeup and then you can watch some of the action.”

“That sounds awesome!”

“Do you need me to come?” said Marcus.

“It’ll probably be crowded. We’ll be back soon.” Abby took Georgie’s hand and they headed towards the trailers.

Marcus stayed in Abby’s chair, watched the movement around him. It was fascinating, and it felt like no time at all before the girls were back. Georgie’s hair had changed into some kind of fancy plait and her lips seemed redder than they were before.

“I hope that’s not makeup!” he said.

“Just a little blush and lipstick,” said Abby. “Isn’t she lovely?”

Georgie twirled so he could see her hair from every angle.

“You’re not expecting me to do that for you, are you?” he said.

Georgie and Abby shared a look that said he was hopeless.

“Okay you two. I have to do some producing now, so I’ll be back and forth. Sit and watch and enjoy, and if you want a drink or anything just go to craft services.”

“Thank you,” said Marcus, and he settled back with Georgie by his side to watch Abby at work. She was so confident, directing people, answering questions, discussing the scenes with the actors. It was fascinating to see. Georgie was rapt with attention. He’d never known her to sit quietly for this long. Usually she was running around or doing acrobatics after five minutes.

Abby talked to them when she could and took Georgie to meet the girl playing Amy. They watched what she called ‘rushes’ together which were the day’s scenes shown on a monitor. Tea was called at five and Abby came and sat next to them.

“We still have some more shooting to do and I won’t be able to spend much time with you, so it’s probably going to get pretty boring from here.”

“It’s time we got home anyway,” said Marcus.

“Awww!” said Georgie, going into full pout mode. “I won’t be bored.”

“Abby needs to get on with her work without us distracting her.”

“You can come and see me again, Georgie. Next time you’re visiting your brother you let me know and I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been fun for me too.”

“Oh, cool! It’s been the best time. Thank you.” Georgie flung her arms around Abby who squeezed her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you both soon, okay.”

“Yes. Erm, Abby, can I have a picture with you?”

“Oh, of course you can. I should have thought about that earlier.”

Marcus took out his phone and Abby put her arms around Georgie and posed with her.

“Shall we have one of the three of us?” said Abby, holding her hand out for Marcus’s phone. “I’ll take a selfie.”

They both put their arms around Georgie and Marcus smiled while Abby held the camera high and took a couple of photos.

“Awesome!” said Georgie, taking the phone and looking at it. “Thanks!”

“Thanks for everything and for being so good with Georgie,” said Marcus.

“It’s no problem. Georgie, why don’t you go and get another muffin from craft services for later.”

“Okay!” Georgie ran off and Abby turned Marcus so they were facing away from the set and most of the people.

“Did you have a nice time too?” she said.

“Very enjoyable. I’m looking forward to Saturday more, though.”

“Me too.”

“Now I’ve seen you in director mode I’m thinking I might be in need of a little direction myself.”

“I don’t know about that. You seem to manage well enough.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing like being told what to do. I like to please.”

“I’ve gathered that. You’re very good at it.”

“I can do better.”

Abby took in a deep breath. “It’s very hard not to touch you right now,” she murmured.

“Anticipation, remember.”

She closed her eyes briefly, and then opened them just as Georgie came bounding up with an armful of chocolate products and drinks.

“They gave me everything!” she said.

“That’s very kind of them. We should get going now.”

“Okay,” she said sadly. “Bye, Abby.”

“Bye, Georgie. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” said Marcus, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Until we meet again,” said Abby.

In the car on the way to his apartment Georgie was full of the day, talking non-stop, giving Marcus the beginnings of a headache. He hoped she’d tire herself out and go to bed early, or her jaw would fall off and she’d give him a few minutes of peace.

“I think you should marry her,” she said apropos of nothing.

“What?”

“Abby. You should marry her and then she’ll be like my sister and it would be so awesome.”

“I think her boyfriend might have something to say about that.”

“Oh, him,” said Georgie in a disapproving tone.

“You know about him?”

“I’ve read stuff. He’s in this like family drama thing on TV over in America that’s really popular and famous. People call him a heartthrob, but I don’t think he’s nice at all! She could do way better than him, even like with you.”

“You’re always so kind to me.”

Marcus pondered Georgie’s words. Abby’s boyfriend was a heartthrob. He must be really good looking, which was no surprise because Abby was beautiful. It was none of his business really, but he couldn’t help being curious. This guy had a great life by the sounds of it – successful career, good looks, beautiful, talented girlfriend. He’d done something to threaten all that, and Marcus wanted to know what it was, and why Abby was having to lie to protect him. Saturday was going to be interesting in so many ways.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby visits Marcus in his apartment.

On Saturday evening Marcus busied about his apartment getting ready for the visit of Abby. Champagne was in the cooler and he’d bought mixers and a book on how to make champagne cocktails, most of which he’d memorised. He’d cajoled the barman downstairs into selling him a bottle of the absinthe he’d drunk with Red that first night and was looking forward to trying that with her again. The windows were open, and a gentle breeze took the edge off the midsummer heat.

In his bedroom he agonised over what to where because it wasn’t a date and yet it was. The few times he’d seen Abby she was dressed impeccably, but it was a warm night and they weren’t venturing from his apartment. Would she be more casual? He decided on beige chino shorts and a pale blue shirt, slipped his navy boat shoes on his feet and figured he would do. The present he’d got for Abby sat on his bedside table and thinking about that sent a shiver through him. He had no idea how she’d react to it but was hopeful it would be good.

She was due at eight, but it was half an hour past that when the concierge called to tell him she was on her way up. He perched on the arm of his sofa, waiting for the lift doors to open, a nervous anticipation he’d rarely felt before running through his veins. He felt high, yet he hadn’t had any stimulant other than the thought of seeing her again.

The doors opened and she scanned the room, smiling when she saw him. She was wearing a floaty blue floral sundress with a plunging neckline, which would have been enough to get his pulse racing, but the dress was also short, barely reaching mid-thigh, and all he could think about was running his hands up those long legs and dear God. She hadn’t even walked into the room and he was gone.

“Hi!” she said, stepping out of the lift. “Where shall I put this?” She held up a paper bag and it took Marcus a full second to remember she was bringing takeout.

“Just, erm, kitchen counter.” He pointed to her right, then managed to make his legs move so he could follow her. She put the bag on the counter along with a large purse, then turned to face him.

“You look amazing,” he said, closing the gap between them.

“So do you.” She reached out, fingered the open edges of his shirt.

Marcus put his arms around her back, his hands coming to rest on the curve of her arse, and she slid her hands up over his chest to link them around his neck. He kissed her, pressing her to him. Her fingers curled in his hair, caressing him. It was sweet, as well as hot, and he took his time exploring her mouth with his. He slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her dress, felt the silk of her knickers, the warm flesh of her butt cheeks. He squeezed her, and she groaned.

“This dress is deadly,” he whispered as he kissed the side of her face.

“That’s why I wore it,” she murmured, and then she stepped back, breaking the contact.

“What are you doing?” Marcus said, his voice perilously close to a whine.

“We should eat before the food gets cold.”

“Let it get cold; I have a microwave.”

She smiled slyly. “Anticipation, remember. Besides, I’m starving, I’ve been working all day. That’s why I was late.”

“You’ve been here five minutes and you’re already killing me.”

“I expect we’ll die many times before the night is over.”

“Are you staying?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Then a small delay for some food won’t matter, will it?” She grinned at him, then started taking cartons out of the bag.

“What have we got?” said Marcus, half his mind still on the exhilarating fact that they had all night together, which also meant the morning. Their only other morning together hadn’t gone well, so this was a chance to put that right in the best way.

“Thai. Is that okay?”

“I told you I’d eat anything.”

She smiled again. “We’ll test that later.”

“Can I get you a drink? I have all the makings for a champagne cocktail.”

“Ooh, yes. Let’s have one of those we had the first time I was here.”

“I’ll make a French 75.”

He fixed the cocktails while Abby organised the cartons. They took the food and drinks out onto the balcony, sat next to each other at the small glass table.

“This view is even better than I remembered,” said Abby.

“What did you get?” said Marcus, peering into the cartons, as now that he could smell the food he realised he was starving.

“I got Yum Beef salad and Pad Thai Kung and there is some vegetable tempura. I wasn’t sure how adventurous you really were, so I figured I’d play it safe this time.”

“Sounds good to me, but for future reference I will eat pretty much anything. That wasn’t just a joke.”

“I’ll remember.”

They ate the food and it wasn’t until he was sat back in his chair afterwards, replete and enjoying his view of the city, that he realised how comfortable this all was. They were relaxed in each other’s company, able to chat easily, share the food, joke and tease as though they were old friends, when in fact this was only their fourth meeting. They were supposed to be here only for sex and good times, and yet it already felt more than that. He pushed the feeling down, because she was only here for a short time, and it could never be anything more than what they’d agreed. He was surprised with himself for even thinking along these lines. He hadn’t felt anything substantial for a woman since he was in his teens and had his heart broken by Samantha Wade who’d dumped him for a boy with a motorcycle.

“What are you thinking?” said Abby, looking at him over the rim of her glass.

“I’m thinking it’s time for a top up, and maybe some dessert.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and she smiled.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Come inside and find out.” He took her glass and headed into the kitchen, smiling as he heard the clip of her high heeled sandals on the wooden floor behind him. “Do you want one of those naughty cocktails?” he said, bringing out the absinthe.

“Oh, the illegal one. Death in the Afternoon, wasn’t it? I think we must.”

Marcus mixed the drink and handed it to her. “Here’s to death in the evening,” he said, clinking his glass against hers.

“To death all night,” she said, taking a long sip while looking at him.

He put his glass down, then removed hers and placed it next to his. “I’m ready for dessert,” he said, and then he lifted her, sat her on the countertop. She wrapped her legs around his back, drew him to her.

“I’ve been desperate all week for you to take my knickers off,” she said, giggling at the word.

“The wait is over,” he replied as he pushed her dress up to reveal the yellow silk. He spread her legs wide, bent his head so he could kiss her through them. She sighed and lay back on the counter, lifting her hips so he could ease the knickers off.

He ran his hands slowly up her long legs, and when he reached the top he buried his face between them, licking and sucking her until she was shaking and her hips were bucking against him.

“Yum,” he said when she propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him pink-cheeked.

She laughed. “You’re not a very good host.”

“Why not?”

“You served yourself dessert, and not me.”

“I can remedy that.”

He lifted her off the counter and she stood kissing him, her fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. She pushed it off his shoulders, ran her hands over his chest and down to his shorts. She stroked him through the material, sank to her knees and ran her tongue along his length where it bulged against the fabric. The friction was wonderful, and he groaned. She reached up, unbuttoned his shorts and pulled them down.

“Going commando!” she said, glancing up at him, and he smirked.

“Why waste time?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She did the same to him as he had done to her, running her hands up his legs, slowly, deliciously, until she got to his straining cock. She sucked on his balls again and God it felt amazing. She licked and kissed all around the root, and then she slid her tongue up the underside and Marcus gripped the edge of the counter behind him. He leant back, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the benefits of her skilful lips and tongue. He came in her mouth, because why not? They had all night.

\---

“I love this room and the amazing view,” said Abby as they lay on the bed together. “I think if I lived here, I would find it hard to leave this bed.”

“If you lived here, I would find it hard to leave this bed,” said Marcus as his fingers trailed lazily over her stomach.

“Hmm,” she murmured, turning to face him. She stroked his cheek, kissed his lips softly.

“I had a name for you, you know, when we first met.”

“Did you?”

“It was hot not knowing who you were, but I had to call you something in my mind, so I called you Red.”

“Red?”

“Because of your dress.”

“Oh. That dress.”

“That was an amazing dress.”

“It was. It had the right effect on you.”

“It did.” His fingers traced the curve of her breast. “It showed these off to perfection.”

“I had a name for you too.”

He looked up with interest and she realised he was about to be disappointed. She could make something up but what was the point? They didn’t need to lie to each other.

“What was it?”

“Penthouse Guy.”

“Penthouse Guy?” he said looking wounded. “Not big cock guy or even sexy British guy?”

Abby’s chest heaved as she chuckled, making his hand bounce up and down where it was holding her. “You’re definitely both of those,” she said, putting her hand on his cock and stroking its length.

He rolled over so he was on top of her, his cock pulsing where it nestled between her legs. She shifted so she could feel the tip of it against her lips. He took the hint, rubbed himself along her slit, up over her clit and back. Over and over, making her tingle.

“Mmm, yeah,” said Abby.

“Not sure you deserve this after calling me that.”

“You were so proud of this place. It made me smile when I thought about you.”

“Well, I’m glad I made you smile.”

He got on his knees, pulled her legs over his thighs, and eased inside her. He thrust lazily, and Abby lay back with her arms folded behind her head and watched him.

“I’ve got something for us,” he said. “I was going to save it until later, but I think now would be fun.”

“What is it?” she said, her interest piqued.

“It’s in the bag on the side table.”

She reached over and pulled the bag onto the bed, looked inside.

“Oh, my God,” she said, laughing. “You want to use this?”

“If you do.”

“That’s... wow, okay.” She pulled out the toy. It was a Le Wand, black and silver and sleek looking. It was exactly the kind of style she could imagine appealing to Marcus.

“It’s fully charged,” he said, taking it from her and switching it on.

“You don’t mind using something like this?” she said, surprised that he’d introduced it to say the least.

“It’s what I bought it for.”

“I know. It’s just, you know some guys think they should be enough.”

“I told you I like to please. It’s my number one priority in the bedroom,” he said, and then he held it against her nipple and Abby nearly jumped off the bed.

“Oh, God!”

“Too much?”

“No,” she said, her voice half strangled as waves of pleasure went straight to her clit.

He rolled the wand over her entire upper body, slowly making his way lower, and the combination of the massage and the anticipation had Abby throbbing. He was still inside her, and when he touched the wand to her mound, they both bucked.

“This is going to be fun,” he said, looking at her and grinning.

Abby closed her eyes, her head already buzzing with the start of what promised to be a fantastic orgasm. Marcus wielded the wand skilfully, building the pressure slowly, alternating fucking her with massaging her until Abby thought her head would explode. It was a relief to come, but he didn’t let her breathe. He continued massaging her whole sex with it and then held it just above her clit, increasing the speed until she was crying and writhing with the sweet, painful pleasure of it. She flailed at him, her hands trying to grip him or get some control she really couldn’t say what, could hardly think, but he kept her away, didn’t give up until she was coming more strongly than she maybe ever had.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she said as she came down.

“Amazing,” said Marcus, discarding the wand and leaning over her, thrusting hard as though he was possessed. Abby picked up the wand, rubbed it across his nipples and he cried out, emptying into her powerfully. He collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around his sweaty back, held him to her.

He rolled over eventually, taking her with him so she was held in his arms.

“I think I should be magic wand guy from now on,” he said, and Abby laughed so hard she got tears in her eyes.

“I love you!” she said, before realising what that sounded like. “Not in a, you know... you’re just... It’s fun.”

“I know,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I love you too.”

They lay silently after that. Everything was so easy with Marcus it felt too good to be true, but then they weren’t living a normal life together. They were only taking the good parts, so it was bound to feel wonderful. There was nothing real or meaningful about this relationship. It wasn’t even a relationship in the true sense of the word. Remember that, Abby, she told herself.

\---

The evening grew dark, and Abby and Marcus sat in adjacent chairs on the balcony outside his bedroom nursing cocktails. Abby had put her dress on for decency though she hadn’t bothered with bra or knickers, and Marcus was in his shorts.

“How long have you lived here?” she said.

“A couple of years. It’s a newly converted building, some kind of warehouse before, I’m not sure.”

“But you have a family home where Georgie lives?”

“Yes, out in Dorset, do you know where that is?”

“I’m afraid my knowledge of England stretches only to small areas of London.”

“It’s on the south west coast, about two and a half to three hours’ drive from here. It’s famous for its Jurassic cliffs. Loads of fossils have been found there from that era. I used to go fossil hunting when I was a kid.”

“I bet you were a cute kid, like Georgie. She’s adorable.”

“She has her moments. Do you have siblings?”

“No. I was an only child, very much the centre of attention. No one was surprised when I became an actress.”

Marcus glanced at her and smiled. “You’re a great actress.”

“Thank you.”

Abby sipped her drink and looked at the view. The towers of the bridge were lit from below in a pale blue light, its cables shining white against the midnight blue sky. She supposed it never got fully dark here like it didn’t in New York. It would be late afternoon there.

“My boyfriend cheated on me,” she said, not realising she was going to say that until the words came out.

Marcus shifted in his seat so he was facing her. “Really?” he said, his face telling her how improbable he found that idea. She liked him even more for that unconscious gesture.

“Multiple times with multiple women. I had no idea. He fucked half the people he worked with, was well known for it apparently, except by me.”

“God, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah. You’re probably wondering how I couldn’t know, cos I wondered that myself. We spent a lot of time apart. I’m based in New York and although he lives with me, the TV show he’s on shoots in LA and he lives there part of the time, so there was the distance. It wasn’t that though. He’s pretty famous in America, more famous than me, and his show is one of the top rated in the country. It’s very wholesome, and his character is beloved. There’s nothing he can do wrong, you know.”

“Yes,” said Marcus quietly.

“The studio protected him, kept it all quiet, even from me, especially from me, and they’re doing that now. They made it clear that I wasn’t to say anything after I found out, that they were depending on me to keep his reputation intact.”

“They can’t do that, surely?”

“They can do whatever they want, because the way our business works it’s all who you know and the studios are so powerful. They can make you persona non grata with just a few words in the right ears. I’d never work again. It’s galling, because I consider myself to be an independent woman, not defined by my relationship, but at the same time I value my career and the work I’m doing. I don’t want to let that lying, cheating fuck ruin me for something he’s done!”

She was aware her voice had risen in pitch and volume. She hadn’t spoken about this with anyone other than those involved, and it had been so hard keeping it inside these last few months. She hadn’t realised just how hard until now.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus said. “He sounds like a complete twat.”

“I don’t know what that means but yeah.”

“I suppose it’s a British word. It means arsehole.”

“Arsehole. I love your language.”

“I can think of other words for him.”

“Go on.”

“Tosser, wanker, fuckwit, pillock, prick.”

“I’ve never heard of most of those but I love how they sound.”

“Why don’t you say them?”

“What now?”

“Yes, call him all those names, anything you want.”

“Okay." She sat up straighter. “He’s a tosser.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck... what was that?”

“Fuckwit.”

“Fuckwit.” She laughed, and then she said the words, along with a few others Marcus taught her, over and over again. They were both laughing by the end, leaning over the balcony and shouting them into the London night.

“That was great,” she said, a sense of relief washing over her.

“It’s a good outlet. I swear all the time, especially at work, but then I have a lot to swear about.”

“I do it too, but your words are so much better.”

“I know this is really inappropriate, given what we’ve just talked about,” said Marcus.

“Tell me. Our whole relationship is inappropriate.”

He laughed. “It’s incredibly hot hearing you say those words.”

Abby raised her eyebrows. “You like the dirty talk, do you?”

“When you do it.” He moved behind her, put his arms around her as she leaned on the balcony.

“It sounds sexier when you say it.”

“Not possible.” He moved her hair to one side, kissed her neck.

She could feel him again, hard and heavy against her ass. “We can’t,” she whispered. “Not out here.”

“It’s dark; no one can see.”

“The whole of London can see!”

“I’ll be discreet.”

He put his hand beneath her skirt, caressed her still aching clit gently, slipping his fingers in and out until she was gripping the balcony rail and shuddering. He turned her, picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, pushing his shorts down with one hand before pressing her against the wall and fucking her while she clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips buried in his hair.

“I’m exhausted,” Marcus said when they flopped on the bed afterwards.

“Worn you out, have I?”

“Hmmm. All this exercise is good for my middle age spread, though.”

She could hear the smile in his voice though her head was too heavy to lift from his chest to look at him.

“You’re perfect,” she said, and he slipped his arm around her shoulder, held her to him.

\---

Marcus woke to light streaming in through the windows he’d forgotten to shutter before falling into an exhausted sleep. He turned onto his side, saw Abby curled with her back to him, naked like he was. He examined the curve of her body, her pale, freckled skin stretched over the ridge of her spine, her arse which was firm and squeezable, her long, muscled legs that felt so good wrapped around him. Luck had certainly been shining on him that first night. He’d been so miserable hitting forty, refusing to commemorate the milestone with anyone, preferring to sit and drink alone not even considering a hook up and in she’d walked.

He sighed happily and she stirred, turned over to face him. She smiled.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

He leaned in and kissed her lips. She caressed his face and he put his hand on her arse, pulled her closer. His cock was pulsing, and she put her leg over his, rubbing him against her sex. It didn’t take much manoeuvring to slip inside her and they fucked slowly, looking at each other. It was the most intimate fuck Marcus had ever had. They lay in the same position afterwards, him softening inside her, reluctant to leave.

“That was nice,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“It was. A lovely way to start the day.”

“Better than our first morning together.”

“I didn’t think you were happy to see me in your bed,” Abby said.

“I didn’t think you were.”

“I... I don’t make a habit of what we did that night. I hadn’t done something like that in years. I guess I had a case of the morning after regrets. It wasn’t personal to you. I’m sorry if it showed on my face.”

“I, erm, I can be judgemental, dismissive. I close myself off. It wasn’t your fault. I made an assumption when what I should have done was talked to you. I regretted that a lot afterwards. I think it’s partly what drove me to try and find you.”

“It’s all worked out just fine.” She kissed him again, and they spent a pleasant few minutes simply caressing each other. This would have to sustain them for a week or maybe more, and Marcus wanted to make the most of every moment he had with her.

\---

Marcus was in the kitchen later, considering what to make for breakfast, when Abby came in from the bathroom. She had on a pair of tiny red shorts and a tight white vest and he stood and stared at her.

“You are trying to kill me!”

She grinned. “I brought them to sleep in, but...”

“Wow! They wouldn’t have lasted long.” He enjoyed the warm smile that lit up her face. He wasn’t deliberately trying to make her feel good because everything he said was true, but he couldn’t help think now and then about her words to Georgie, about feeling lonely and unloved, and of course what that bastard boyfriend had done to her.

Marcus had never deluded himself into thinking he was a great man. He didn’t always treat people well, and he could be cold and dismissive like he’d told Abby earlier. He’d rarely had overwhelming feelings of love for anyone, not even his parents. Georgie was probably the only one who’d ever wormed under his skin before now. But he would never do what Abby’s boyfriend had done, could never behave that appallingly, and to Abby of all people, who was beautiful and warm and funny and big-hearted. She deserved to feel good about herself all the time.

“What are we having for breakfast?” she said, opening his fridge and peering inside.

“I bought some fruit if you’d like that.”

“Is that what you’d normally have?”

“I usually treat myself to a full English on a Sunday. The rest of the time it’s coffee and maybe a slice of toast.”

“What’s a full English?”

“It’s bacon, sausage, eggs, beans, tomatoes, a slice of toast.”

“Oh, my God! You people have all that for breakfast?” She looked shocked and Marcus couldn’t blame her. It was a substantial meal.

“It lasts me until dinnertime. Did you not, erm, have you not ever had that in a hotel?”

“I only stayed in one a few days and I had fruit mainly and sometimes a croissant.”

“I make a healthy version. Well, healthyish.”

“I guess I’d better try it then.”

She settled on the pedestal on the other side of the counter and watched as he prepared the meal. He grilled everything instead of frying it and he had a few tips for adding flavour he’d got from his mum that didn’t involve lots of fat.

“Do you cook a lot?” Abby said, picking a grape out of the bowl of fruit on the counter and eating it.

“I have a limited repertoire of meals. I eat out a lot or get takeout.”

“I love to cook but I’m on my own a lot, apart from when you know who’s home, so I don’t do it as often as I should. Most of the time it’s craft services and you’ve seen how healthy that is. I drink a lot of coffee.”

“Speaking of, we should get a pot on. I’m not normally human until I’ve had a cup,” said Marcus.

“Oh, I can do that. I’m an excellent barista.” She hopped off the stool and went over to examine his machine.

They took their food and coffee onto the balcony and ate at the small table.

“This is delicious!” said Abby. “What have you done to the tomatoes?”

“A touch of balsamic vinegar.”

“They’re amazing.”

Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a proper breakfast for someone. He had few overnight guests and they were mostly there in the morning because he’d been too drunk the night before to encourage them to leave.

“What’s on your agenda this week?” he said to steer his mind away from the road it seemed determined to travel down.

“I have to review the shooting scripts today and then it’s more of the same you saw earlier this week. Oh, I get to do some acting, though.”

“That’s cool. What role are you playing?”

“I’m the mom, or mum as you say! She’s not a real mom she’s like a fantasy mom that Amy makes up who is kinder and more accepting than her real parents. She’s like a guardian angel I suppose although it’s not enough to save her in the end. I get to keep my accent because as a fantasy she can be anyone. I tried to do a British accent but it’s a tough one to do. I didn’t want to sound ridiculous, you know.”

“The world of film is littered with Americans doing terrible British accents,” said Marcus.

“Exactly!”

“You’re not old enough to be her mum, though, surely, even a fantasy one.”

“Very diplomatic.” She smiled.

“I wasn’t being...”

“I know. I’m thirty-eight, and Amy is sixteen by the end, so it’s possible, like you and Georgie.”

“It must be hard for you making this film, because of your friend.”

“It can be, yes. I think about Callie all the time, but then that’s nothing new. She was the sweetest kid, my best friend, my only friend really we were so close. I named my production company after her, CeCe Productions. Those were her initials, and that was my nickname for her.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” She looked at her watch. “I better get going. I have a ton of work to do. Shall we clear these away?”

“No, leave them for me.”

“What will you do today?” she said as they made their way into the house.

“Nothing exciting. I’ll probably go into the office later.” He followed Abby into the bedroom, watched as she pulled off her vest and slipped her dress over the top of her shorts. It was probably just as well she was leaving, because otherwise he would spend all day in bed with her and get nothing done. God, that sounded good.

“I looked up your organisation after the fundraiser. You do business services or something. What’s that?”

“It covers a multitude of sins, but mainly we support the corporate sector and that can be anything from technology to finance to fixing problems.”

“Wow. You must have to know a lot then.”

“I learnt at the feet of my father, so it’s, I guess it’s second nature.”

She packed her vest into her bag and neatened the cover on her side of the bed which made Marcus smile. The box that had contained the wand was on the floor and she picked it up, looked inside. “There are accessories!” she said, pulling out a couple of them and showing them to them. “It says this one is for men and women on the box.”

“Does it?” Marcus smirked, anticipating what she was going to say next.

She looked up at him eyebrows raised. “Have you ever?”

“Have I ever what?”

“Played with these yourself?”

He took the smallest item from her, ran his thumb over it. “Do you want to play with me?” he said, noticing a faint pink blush spread across her cheeks. So she had some inhibitions then.

“Would you?”

“I’d do anything with you.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Maybe next time,” she said, placing the box on the bed. “Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

They stood looking at each other for a moment, and then Abby picked up her bag and Marcus followed her towards the lift.

“I had a wonderful time,” she said, putting her arms around him.

“So did I, in every way.” He kissed her, and she wrapped herself around him, kissing him passionately in return.

They parted with a sigh, and Marcus called the lift. She stepped into it, smiling warmly at him, and he watched the doors close with mixed feelings of happiness and regret.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Marcus arrange to meet.

Marcus was at his desk in his office on Lower Thames Street when his phone rang. It was Abby. He got up, closed his office door then sat back down.

“Hey, Red.”

“Hey... I can’t call you Magic Wand Guy.” She collapsed into laughter before she got to the end of the sentence.

“Maybe I should...maybe...I need a new name,” he replied, hardly able to get the words out for laughing.

“I’m not calling you Big Cock over the phone,” she said and that was all either of them could say for several seconds.

“Oh, God,” said Marcus, wiping a tear from his eye. “I can hardly breathe.”

“I guess it’s a good way to start a conversation, certainly sets a happy mood.” He heard her sniff then blow her nose.

“I’m always happy to speak to you.”

“You’re so smooth.”

“I try.”

“Mr Smooth Operator,” she giggled.

“Stop it!”

“Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath. “I wish you were here.”

“I do too. It’s been over a week.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. The shooting schedule is so tight, and I’m just tired all the time.”

“I’m not complaining about that... maybe a little. Why don’t I come to you? I’ll cook you something out of my limited repertoire, no strings attached. You can fall asleep on me if you want.”

“That does sound good...”

“I make fabulous beans on toast.”

“I’m at the eating beans out of a can stage at the moment so if it’s hot, I’m up for it.”

He was about to make an innuendo about it definitely being hot, then thought better of it as he’d just told her no strings attached.

“What day is best?”

“Wednesday is my shortest day. I should be home for seven.”

“That’s still two days away.”

“I know. As tired as I am, parts of me are aching for you.”

Marcus’s pulse picked up. “Which parts?” he murmured.

“You know which parts.” She was speaking in barely a whisper now.

“Tell me,” he said.

“I can’t. I’m at work. I had to come and sit in the cab of a truck to talk to you.”

“Then no one will hear you.”

He heard the rustle of clothing, imagined her turning around, checking to see if anyone was nearby.

“Which parts are aching?” he said.

“My lips are aching to kiss you.”

“Not the lips I was expecting but go on.”

She laughed softly in his ear. “My tongue is desperate to lick you.”

“Lick me where?” he said, his cock starting to throb. He stroked it through his trousers.

“I would start at your nipples then lick all the way down to your stomach, past your belly button until I got to your big, HUGE, cock,” she said, sniggering.

“Huge cock guy is an improvement. What else?”

“My fingers are aching to touch you, to stroke you.”

“Mmm. I’m imagining they are right now.” He unzipped his pants with one hand, reached inside.

“Are you touching yourself?” she said, surprise in her voice.

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“In my office.”

“Oh, my God!”

“The door is shut.”

Her breaths grew loud in his ear. “Someone might come in.”

“They might.”

She sucked in a deep breath at that. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I’m running my thumb over the head like you did in the garden.”

“Gawwd. I like to taste you.”

“I like to taste you.”

“Now parts of me are throbbing,” she groaned.

“Take care of it.”

“I’m in the cab of the truck!”

“Can anyone see you?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“My tongue wants to lick you too. It wants to split you wide apart, to get right at the heart of you.”

She groaned loudly. “Good job I’m wearing a dress today,” she said, sighing softly. “That feels nice.”

“It does. It feels amazing. I love how wet you are, I love making you that way.”

“I’m soaking.”

“Good, then I’ll be able to slide right in, all the way.” He pulled his cock out of his pants completely, not caring how exposed it left him. He stroked himself slowly.

“You always feel so good. That first time, I almost came the minute you were inside me.”

“Will you wrap your legs around me, grip me tight?”

“I will. I am. They’re high up your back, the points of my high heels are pressing against your skin.”

Marcus groaned so loudly at that image he had to pause his stroke, hold his breath waiting to see if anyone would come in to see what was wrong. They didn’t, and he allowed himself a brief close of his eyes while he imagined fucking Abby like that.

“You still have your dress on, the blue sundress. We couldn’t wait. I just pushed it over your waist, pulled your knickers down.”

“Yeah, your pants are still round your ankles we didn’t care.”

“Yes, cos I just want to fuck you so badly.”

“I want to fuck you all the time.”

“Yeah.”

“I need you to rub my clit,” she said, moaning softly.

“I’m rubbing my thumb over it, round and round.”

“Mmm.”

They were silent for a few moments, the only sound that of their rapid breaths and sighs.

“I can tell you’re going to come,” murmured Marcus. “I can feel how ripe you are beneath my fingers, ready to burst.” He was tugging frantically now on his cock as he listened to her breathy moans that were turning to soft cries. She was close, he was familiar with the signs. “You’re so sexy when you come. You’re beautiful.”

Her moans had coalesced into one long sigh of pleasure, and then she cried out. Marcus’s hand was a blur, and he dropped the phone while he was fumbling for his handkerchief. He pulled it out of his pocket and wrapped it around his cock, coming hard into the silky material. His brain was warm and fuzzy, and it took a couple of seconds for him to realise where he was, what he’d done, and that Abby was on the floor somewhere probably wondering what had happened to him.

He found the phone under his chair, picked it up.

“Are you there, Marcus?” she was saying.

“I’m here, sorry. I dropped you at the crucial moment.”

“I can’t believe we did that!” she said, laughing softly.

“I guess we needed it.”

“Boy, did we! Oh, my God!”

Marcus put her on speaker while he fastened himself back into his trousers. He realised he’d left the blinds of his office window open, had to hope no one in the block opposite his had seen him.

“Was it good for you?” he said.

“Yeah, it was really hot.”

“For me too. I’m kind of hoping you won’t be too tired on Wednesday now.”

“I’m hoping that too! I won’t be, not after that. I can’t wait to have you touch me for real.”

“I can’t wait to touch you either. I can’t wait to have all of you.”

She sighed loudly in his ear. “I hate to fuck and run, but I can see my guys looking for me.”

“I know. I’m surprised no one rushed in thinking I was being murdered.”

“You did make quite a noise at one point.”

Marcus laughed. “I suppose now I know none of my office staff care about me.”

“I care about you. I would rush in if you were being murdered.”

“A man cannot ask for more.”

“You’re so funny, you kill me. Okay, I better go. I’ll text you my address.”

“See you Wednesday. Bye, Abby.”

“Bye, Marcus, and thank you.”

With that the line went dead. Marcus sat back in his chair, his ruined handkerchief still clutched in his hand, not quite believing what had just happened. A few seconds later his phone buzzed with a text from Abby. ‘You are amazing’ she’d written, along with her address and a kiss. He sent her a flame emoji together with a kiss in return.

\---

Marcus was at home packing provisions for the dinner he was cooking for Abby when he got a text from her. His heart sank at first thinking she was cancelling, but it was to tell him she was running late, and to pick up a key from the café below her flat. There was also a garage in the mews behind the building where he could park his car, which would be handy if he stayed the night. Notting Hill was a nice enough area but not one where he was keen on leaving the Jaguar unattended for long.

The flat didn’t belong to her, and was little more than a hotel room in some respects as she was only here for a few months, but he was interested to see it nevertheless, to discover what had appealed to her. He opened the door with some anticipation, glad in a way that she wasn’t home so he could respectfully nosy around before she arrived. He wasn’t about to betray the trust she’d shown in him by leaving her key, but a little non-intrusive exploration wouldn’t hurt.

The door opened straight into a bright living room with large traditional arched windows. He didn’t suppose the furniture was hers, but it was all very understated and tasteful. Dark grey sofa and chairs with colourful stripy cushions. Warm brown wooden coffee table and furniture. The kitchen was in the same room, to the right as he entered, just a small galley with an island opposite. A dining table and four chairs was in front of one of the large windows.

Marcus put his bags on the island, walked over to the window, looked out. Below, the bright yellow awnings of the café sheltered the street, but he could hear the chatter of people sitting in the chairs outside or walking past. The road was still busy with cars, there being no such thing as rush hour in London, more like rush day. Abby had chosen somewhere right in the heart of Notting Hill, a lively place with colour and spirit. He wasn’t surprised.

He was surprised at how small the flat was, though. Other than the living/dining room there were two small bedrooms, one Abby seemed to be using as a dressing room because it was strewn with shoes and bags and clothes. Her bedroom was neat and tidy, the bed looking to be about half the size of his. If he stayed the night they’d be cosy together! The books on her bedside table were _The Testaments_ by Margaret Atwood and _The Miseducation of Cameron Post_ by Emily M Danforth. Marcus hadn’t heard of the latter and he picked it up, scanned the blurb. It was about a lesbian teen sent to a gay conversion camp in America. She must be reading it in relation to the film she was making.

He put the book down, went to the small bathroom where he relieved himself, screwing up his nose at the size of the shower. There wouldn’t be any showering for two in that! Back in the kitchen he emptied the bags he’d brought, set about rummaging through her cupboards for the equipment he needed.

He heard the door open when he was draining the kale for his side salad. He put the colander on the work bench, turned to see Abby dump her bags on the sofa then walk towards him, a big smile on her face. She looked more dishevelled than usual, her hair coming loose from its ponytail. She tucked a large strand of it behind her ear as she approached.

“Something smells amazing!” she said.

“It’s just roasted salmon for my fishcakes. Hi!”

“Hi!” She put her arms around him, kissed him long and sweet. “This is nice to come home to.”

“Hmm, it’s lovely to see you.”

“Is that what we’re having then, fishcakes?”

“Yep. Salmon and courgette fishcakes and a salad of kale with lemon and garlic.”

“Oh, nice!”

“Simple but refreshing.”

“Like you,” she said grinning.

“Hey now.”

He gripped her tighter, his hands on her arse, squeezing her just beyond gentle. Her arms slid around his neck, and then they were kissing again, chasing each other’s tongues, deeper and deeper. When they came up for air Marcus moved lower, pressing kisses to the side of her neck, along her throat.

“Mmm. I’m all sweaty and dusty,” she murmured.

“That’s how I like my women.”

She laughed, slapped him away gently. “Idiot. I could use a shower though, seriously. Do I have time?”

“Yes. Everything’s prepared it’s just the final cooking.”

“Great. Don’t go anywhere.” She smiled over her shoulder at him as she headed to the bedroom.

Marcus sighed happily as he took the fishcakes out of the fridge. He was tossing the kale with the lemon and garlic when she returned, dressed in skinny grey jeans and a tight white t-shirt. Her hair was loose and hung in soft waves below her shoulder. There wasn’t a part of Marcus that didn’t react to the sight of her.

“Very nice,” he said.

“I feel more human now.” She went to the fridge, opened it. “Are you staying the night?” she said, shaking a bottle of white wine at him.

“I wasn’t, but now you’ve given me a reason to, I might as well.” He grinned to show he was joking.

“I might rescind the offer for that!” She took the bottle to the table along with two glasses.

“Take a seat, madam, dinner will shortly be served,” said Marcus.

“I love how formal you British are!”

Marcus took warmed bowls out of the oven, plated the kale and fishcakes and took them to the table. He set it before her with a flourish, making her laugh.

“Would madam like a glass of wine?”

“I would, thank you, sir.”

He poured them both a glass then sat opposite her. “Bon appétit!”

“Thank you so much for this. It looks fantastic.”

“It was a pleasure. I make them for Georgie sometimes when I’m home and they always get good reviews, so I’m feeling confident.”

Abby took a bite of her fishcake. “Mmm, you should be confident. They’re amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“How is Georgie?”

“She’s fine. She’s coming up on Sunday for a couple of days.”

“Oh, that will be fun. What do you guys have planned?”

“Sunday we’re going to the Natural History Museum and then Hyde   
Park and Monday I play the role of bag carrier while she shops.”

“I would love to see that. I bet it kills you having to stand there all day.”

“She just buys the same things she already has!”

“Women know what they feel good in, what makes them comfortable.”

“It’s beyond me.”

“You always look good. Don’t you spend time preening yourself in the dressing rooms of the finest London tailors?”

“I know what I want; I don’t spend an hour trying on ten versions of the same outfit.”

“She’s going to have so much fun with you.” Abby laughed.

“I will be stoic,” Marcus said.

“I kind of wish I could come along to save her from you, but we have a busy day Monday.”

“Oh, yes, of course, I wouldn’t expect.”

“I know, but it would be fun to see her. I did say I would. Is South Kensington far from here? I could come to the museum with you guys.”

“No, it’s not far, it’s probably just a couple of tube stops.”

“Cool!” She smiled brightly, then frowned and shook her head. “No, I’m being presumptuous, I’m sorry. It’s your day with Georgie. I don’t want to intrude.”

Marcus could tell from her face and the tone of her voice that she did want to intrude. He didn’t want to turn down an opportunity to see her, and Georgie would be delighted, plus he’d have some adult conversation.

“No, you’re not intruding, it’s a great idea. Georgie will be thrilled.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am, but aren’t you worried about being seen together?”

“You’re not going to fuck me next to the dinosaur exhibit, are you?” she said, causing Marcus to half choke on the piece of kale he was swallowing. He took a sip of wine to ease his throat.

“It’s tempting, but I can probably control myself.”

“Then it’s just a day out with a friend and his daughter,” she said, looking at him slyly.

“No dessert for you!” said Marcus.

“Ooh, we have dessert?” she said hopefully.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, right.” She laughed. “That just punishes you as well.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

After dinner they sat on the sofa, swapping garlicky kisses. Abby was curled next to him and he had his arm around her shoulder. It felt like being a teenager again.

“How was your day?” he said, thinking it was about time he’d asked her as they’d spent most of the dinner talking about Georgie and the trip to the museum.

“Long,” she sighed, “but good. We got some great shots in the can.”

“Did you get to do some acting?”

“I did! The girl we have playing Amy, she’s called Emma, she’s just fantastic, really natural. I have to up my game when I’m acting with her.”

“I doubt that,” said Marcus, stroking her shoulder.

“You’re sweet, but she really is a find.”

Marcus listened while she talked about the girl and the scene. It was interesting hearing about this world Abby inhabited that was so different to anything he’d experienced.

“I’m excited to see the film when it’s finished,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Abby, and then she fell silent.

Marcus waited for her to continue but she didn’t say any more; she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. He managed to snag the TV remote control without disturbing her and switched it on, muting the sound. He found an old film and put the subtitles on, watching it half-heartedly while he thought about Abby and what they were doing. Could they honestly say it was just sex when he was cooking for her and she was asleep in his arms? He enjoyed the conversations he had with her as much as the sex, which had never happened before. It was comfortable as well as hot and exciting. He sighed. Don’t overthink it. Don’t dwell on it, just enjoy what you have, he told himself without much conviction.

\---

Abby woke and was disorientated for a moment when she felt a warm body beneath her head, its chest rising and falling with even breaths. The TV was on, some war film. She looked up, saw Marcus smiling down at her.

“Morning!” he said.

“Morning? How long have I slept?” Abby sat up in alarm, looked around, but it was dark outside and the only light in the room was coming from the TV. “You bastard!” she said, slapping his chest.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “You’ve been out an hour maybe.”

“I guess I needed it. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry; I did say you could fall asleep on me.”

“I know, but I didn’t plan on actually doing it.”

“Do you want something? A coffee or anything?”

She looked at her watch; it was ten-thirty already! “Hmm. Coffee, or sex with you. Which would I prefer?”

Marcus jumped up, grabbing her hand as he did so she was pulled up with him. “In that case I’m not giving you a choice,” he said, dragging her towards the bedroom.

Inside, they stripped off their clothes and fell on the bed, Marcus on top of her. Abby clasped her hands around the back of his neck, drew him to her. They kissed until she was desperate for more, aching for his hands or his tongue or his cock.

“Please, just fuck me,” she said.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded.

Her stomach flipped as she did as he asked, her pulse racing as she waited for him. She felt his hands on her ass, thumbs rubbing along her sex. He split her apart with them, put his hot tongue on her and licked her until she was burying her cries in the pillow. He crouched over her, rubbed the tip of his cock around and around her entrance, and then he pushed in, all the way.

“Fuck!” cried Abby. “That’s so deep.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, God, it’s amazing.”

He gripped her shoulders while he rode her, his thrusts so powerful she had to use all the strength in her arms to keep from being pushed into the mattress. Just as she thought she could hold out no longer he relaxed his grip, adjusted their position so she was on her elbows and he was kneeling behind, pulling her backwards onto his cock. She slammed against him, put all her effort into getting him as deep as possible because it felt so good.

He leant over her so his face was next to hers, whispered how hot she was, how good she felt. She put her hand between her legs, fingered her swollen, aching clit while his words made her throb until she was coming powerfully, and he was emptying inside her with a loud groan.

Abby flopped onto her back, panting with the exertion. “Sex with you is amazing!” She puffed out a long, hot breath. “Wow.”

The mattress shook as Marcus chuckled beside her. “I can’t argue.”

She rolled towards him, rested her damp head on his sweaty chest, stroked the hairs that ran down his stomach. “That was something else.”

“It was.”

“You know the weird thing is, though, it’s like, I’m always really satisfied, but somehow I still want more.”

“I know the feeling. I think I could fuck you forever.”

“If only,” she sighed, before realising how that sounded. Oh, well. It was kind of the truth. Right now, lying in his arms, full of blissful hormones, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

Marcus stroked her back softly. “Was it not good before, you know, with... fuckwit?”

“Fuckwit.” Abby laughed softly. “At first, yeah, it was great. Maybe not this great thinking about it but definitely good enough. I would never settle for mediocre. At least, I never thought I would settle but by the end, probably the last year or so really, he wasn’t interested. We would do it, but something was missing, like any desire to make it great or loving. He certainly didn’t care to please me.” She glanced up at Marcus.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You make all kinds of excuses like he’s tired, he works so hard, I’m always busy, I’m not available enough, I’ve got wrinkles, my boobs are sagging.”

“How can you think that? You’re not ANY of those things!”

Abby laughed bitterly. “I met him when I was in my early twenties and we started dating a few years later. Twenty-something to thirty-eight is a big difference in terms of looks and body and character, Marcus. I see that in my industry all the time. You hit thirty suddenly you’re the mom or the sidekick. It makes you feel like you’re not sexy anymore. Looks aren’t everything in real life but in my business they are. That’s why I make my own movies, so I can play whomever I want, and I don’t have studio executives telling me I’m old and fat.”

“You’re extremely attractive and sexy. Ridiculously so,” said Marcus.

“I don’t feel unattractive myself, like I don’t feel old or ugly or anything. I’m aware of my body’s changes and I embrace them. It’s others who try to make you feel that way, as though they’re the arbiters of what is the perfect woman.”

“I suppose I probably have, erm... I am guilty of being shallow with the women I’ve dated.”

“You fuck ‘em and leave ‘em, I know.” She smiled up at him to show she wasn’t judging him. He’d been honest with her from the start about who he was.

“Not with you.”

“It’s okay, Marcus. I know what this is. I’m a willing participant.”

“No, it’s...Your attractiveness to me is not just physical. It’s everything about you.”

Abby wasn’t sure if he was saying that to make her feel better or if he truly meant it. If the latter, what did that mean? They couldn’t fall for each other, that would make everything way too complicated.

“That’s lovely of you, thank you,” she said, kissing his lips.

He nodded, his brow creasing into a small frown as he looked at her. Don’t say anything else, she thought. Don’t make this harder than it already is.

“Fuckwit lives up to his name, that’s all I can say,” he said, and Abby felt relieved.

“Yeah. Anyway, it seemed that out of all those women he was fucking over the years he’d found one he liked more than the others and I wasn’t convenient anymore. He didn’t want to leave me in case things didn’t work out with her, but he couldn’t be arsed, as you would say, to put any effort in with me.”

“What did you ever see in him, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t know. I was young, full of hormones. He was very good looking. You’re not the only one capable of being shallow.”

He smiled, looked at her so softly Abby’s heart thumped against her chest. This was supposed to be just fucking. Who was she kidding? Not herself anymore, maybe not even him. She had to keep these feelings at bay, that was all there was to it, because one thing was for sure, she wasn’t giving this up. Not yet. No way.

“We’d better get some sleep. I have to be up early.” She turned over to check the alarm on her phone.

“I’ll drive you, give us an extra few minutes in bed.” He smiled suggestively.

“That’s tempting, but I don’t want anyone to see us.”

“They won’t. I’ll drop you off a block away. Come on, a little morning loving will set you up for the day.” He stroked her arm with the back of his finger, making the hairs stand up.

“Fine,” said Abby, “but you’d better not make me late.”

“I’ll be in and out, you’ll barely even notice.”

Abby laughed hard at that. “I better had notice!”

“I’ll do my best,” he said.

“Good.” She rolled into his arms, rested her head against his chest, and closed her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus, Georgie and Abby go to the Natural History Museum, and Abby receives a proposition.

“Why do we have to wait here, Marcus?” said Georgie her face set in a pout. “I want to go and see the dinosaurs. I found this last week did I tell you?”

She dug her hand in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a polished golden fossil in the shape of a coiled shell.

“Oh, that’s nice,” said Marcus, turning the hard shell over in his hands. “An Iron Pyrite ammonite, good find.”

“Yeah, it was lying on the beach near the rocks, you know where we like to dive.”

“I’ve found things there before; I think the sea loses its energy when it hits the rocks and drops them.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking up at him with shining eyes. “Can we go now? I want to see what fossils they’ve got.”

“I have a surprise for you, just be patient.”

They were standing beneath the huge blue whale skeleton in the entrance hall of the museum. Marcus scanned the crowds coming and going for signs of Abby. She was ten minutes late which wasn’t a problem except he hadn’t told Georgina she was coming, and the girl was restless after a three-hour train journey to the capital.

“Here’s the surprise,” he said as he spotted Abby’s brown pony-tailed hair bobbing through the crowd. She was wearing a white t-shirt and stone-washed jeans and god her legs were endless for someone so short. He watched with pleasure as she walked towards them, her hips swaying sexily.

“Oh, my God!” said Georgie, squealing.

Abby smiled broadly as she approached. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, and she held her arms out for a hug.

“Hi!” said Georgie, falling into her embrace. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No? Is it a nice surprise?”

“Yeah,” said Georgie breathlessly.

“Good. Hi, Marcus,” said Abby, releasing Georgie and giving him a kiss on the cheek, her lips lingering longer than was polite.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, returning the kiss.

“So, I heard that you like dinosaurs, Georgie,” said Abby.

“I do. I collect fossils, look at this.” She showed Abby the fossil.

“Wow, that’s amazing; very shiny.”

“It’s caused by iron pyrite, what they call fool’s gold. People used to find nuggets of it in streams and think they’d struck rich,” said Georgie somewhat gleefully.

“She’s just like you, Marcus, collecting her fossils.”

“How do you know he hunts fossils?” said Georgie.

“Oh, erm. He told me when we were organising this day. I know that you both want to go and see the dinosaurs and so would I, so shall we go find them?”

“Yes!” said Georgie, running head.

Marcus followed with Abby. “Nice save,” he said, smirking at her.

“I’m not cut out for subterfuge,” said Abby, smiling ruefully.

“No, it requires too much thinking, something I’m not very good at.”

“I doubt that somehow.”

Marcus grinned at her, wanted desperately to put his arm around her and pull her to him. He had to settle for a nudge of her arm instead.

“Oh, my God!” shouted Georgie ahead of them.

“What?” said Marcus, a rush of adrenaline hitting him as he wondered what the problem was.

“It’s amazing!” Georgie stood and stared up at the wall of fossils contained behind glass.

“You’d think she’d never seen this before. We’ve been visiting once a year since she was a baby,” said Marcus to Abby.

“I love her enthusiasm; I think it’s cute. You should treasure it. Most thirteen-year-olds these days are way too grown up.”

“What were you like at thirteen?”

“Precocious.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Not in a gross way, get your mind out of the gutter. I was in a theatre troupe and we did a lot of touring around the New York boroughs. Every weekend I’d be away. I thought I was going to be a Broadway star.” She smiled fondly at the memory.

“Did that dream come true?”

“Acting on Broadway? No, not yet, although I have been wondering about turning Finding Amy into a theatre production. I think it would lend itself cause it’s not a huge action movie.”

“You should do it, why not?”

“I don’t know, because it pays so badly, and I already spend half my time doing things that don’t pay the bills. I need to find a regular TV drama role just to survive.”

Marcus was surprised because he’d assumed famous actors like Abby were overpaid and swimming in money. His thoughts must have shown on his face because she raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know what you’re thinking, people always assume it’s a well-paying job and it can be. I have a nice life, I’m not saying I don’t, but it’s ephemeral. It could all disappear tomorrow if the jobs don’t come. I know that’s something everybody faces, but...” She trailed off. “I’m not complaining.”

“I didn’t mean to... you don’t have to justify yourself to me. I was born into my money, didn’t even have to work for it in some ways.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short there, Marcus. It must be a lot of work running an international company.”

“It is, yeah, but it was all laid out for me, that’s what I’m saying.”

“What do you think you would have done if you hadn’t gone into the family business?”

“I’d probably have been an archaeologist, you know, like worn khaki shorts and spectacles and been all serious and intelligent looking.”

Abby snorted in response to that.

“Hey! It’s not that much of a stretch, is it?” said Marcus indignantly.

“No, no, I’m sure you’d make a very handsome archaeologist.”

“I’m very good with my hands,” he whispered suggestively.

“So you are, so you are.”

They were busy smiling at each other when Marcus felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked around to see Georgie frowning at him.

“You’re not even looking!” she said.

“Sorry,” he said.

“What are we looking at here, Georgie?” said Abby, putting her arm around the girl and standing in front of the exhibits.

They spent a couple of hours exploring the dinosaur trail and the mammals’ section of the museum then had scones with jam and cream in the café.

“This place is unbelievable,” said Abby gazing around the room with its stone arches and vaulted ceiling. “I feel like I’m in the movie Night at the Museum.”

“I love that movie,” said Georgie, and Marcus noticed she’d adopted a slight American accent to go along with the language. It made him smile.

“Imagine if the exhibits came to life now!”

“Dippy the diplodocus would crush us all,” said Georgie, “and some day our fossilised remains will be found buried beneath the rubble.

“Georgie!” said Marcus.

“If we threw him a bone it would be okay,” said Abby. “We could tame him.”

“We could make him our pet!”

“A dinosaur would definitely make a cool pet.”

“You two have vivid imaginations,” said Marcus, getting up to pay the bill.

As they left the hall a girl approached them, looking nervous and unsure.

“Erm, hi,” she said.

“Do we know you?” said Marcus, frowning.

“It’s okay, Marcus,” said Abby. “Hi,” she said to the girl.

“You’re, erm, Abby Griffin, right? I’ve seen a lot of your films.”

“I am, yes, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, wow. Cool! I read you were in London in The Observer, but I never thought I’d actually run into you! This is amazing.”

“I’m here making a movie.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve read the book.”

“Have you? That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. Do you think I could have a picture?”

“Of course.”

Abby posed with the girl for a selfie while Marcus and Georgie swapped looks of amusement.

“Is this your daughter? I didn’t think you had, erm...”

“No, this is my friend, Georgie.”

Georgie beamed with pride at Abby’s description.

“Oh, right, cool. Well thanks a lot. You’re amazing. I love all your films.”

“That’s very kind, thank you.”

They left the girl staring after Abby and headed towards the shop where Georgie bought yet another dinosaur for what must be an enormous collection by now. They exited the museum onto Exhibition Road and turned left to head towards Hyde Park.

“These buildings are just incredible I can’t get over how beautiful and old they are, and it’s one after the other.” Abby walked along the street her head in the air as she looked up and round at the architecture.

“There are a lot of museums here. That’s the Victoria and Albert, and there’s the science museum,” said Marcus, pointing out the main features.

“It’s such a shame I don’t have time for sightseeing really. I’ll have to come back some time in the future to do all the touristy stuff.”

“Yes,” said Marcus, her comment bringing home to him the fact that she wasn’t here for long and didn’t seem to have any intention of extending her visit. It was easy to forget that when they were together and having a nice day like they were today. It was a fantasy he’d found himself indulging in once or twice, but he was fooling himself, he knew that. She wasn’t going to stay here with him when she had her life back in New York, however difficult it was, and did he want that really?

They entered the park and Marcus decided to take Abby to see the Albert memorial as she seemed interested in the historical features.

“Wow, look at that!” she said staring at the ornate monument with its gilt and marble.

“It was commissioned by Queen Victoria after the death of her beloved husband when he was just forty-two,” said Marcus.

“Imagine loving someone so much you create this in their memory.”

“She had a lot of money, so, you know, you’re going to go big, aren’t you?” said Georgie seemingly unimpressed by the monument and the Queen’s undying love.

“I guess so,” said Abby, swapping a grin with Marcus.

They walked to the Round Pond near Kensington Palace and settled on the grass. Abby lay back, one hand cushioning her head.

“It’s so hot today,” she said, fanning her face with a leaflet from the museum.

Marcus lay next to her, as close as he dared, which wasn’t as close as he’d like but they were in public and even if they weren’t there was Georgie.

“Summer in the city,” he said.

“Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty,” murmured Abby in a sing song voice.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a song, The Lovin’ Spoonful.”

“Yes, of course,” said Marcus, who couldn’t recall the song.

They lay on the grass under the hot afternoon sun and Marcus was just drifting to sleep when something kicked him in the shin.

“Ow!” he said, looking up and squinting at the small shape looming over him.

“Will you play with me?” said Georgie.

Marcus looked across at Abby, who was fast asleep with her oversized sunglasses angled crookedly on her face.

“Fine,” he said, sighing. “What are we playing?”

“It’ll have to be catch as all we’ve got is a ball.” She ran a short distance away and threw the ball towards Marcus who caught it and threw it back. It was too hot for this, but he didn’t have to do much so it was bearable.

“How about we play fetch?” said Georgie after what felt like an interminable amount of time throwing the ball.

“What do you mean?” The ball whizzed past him and beyond in response. “I’m not going for that!”

Georgie stood with hands on hips staring at him pointedly. “Are you worried Abby will see your man boobs jiggling around?” she said, smirking.

“You cheeky bugger!”

She gave a shrug in response that would make a Frenchman proud. Marcus tutted and sighed and walked slowly for the ball. He picked it up and pretended to walk back just as ponderously and then threw the ball quickly, missing her by a calculated inch. She screamed nevertheless and ran after it, throwing it at him with all the force she could muster. It sailed wide.

“You’ll never make a cricketer,” he said as he went for the ball.

“I’d do better than you, jelly belly.”

“Shut it, pipsqueak,” he said, emphasising the word to annoy her.

“You two are children!” said Abby, and Marcus turned to see her sitting up and wafting the leaflet again.

“I AM a child!” said Georgie.

“I thought you wanted to be treated like a grownup.” Marcus flopped onto the grass next to Abby, and Georgie sat on the other side of her, glowering at him. He pulled a face in return.

“Is there ice cream in this place? I could use an ice cream,” said Abby.

“Over near the palace I think,” said Marcus.

“Let’s see what they’ve got.”

They ate ice creams on a bench overlooking Kensington Palace, Abby expressing continued amazement that royalty lived in the middle of a park where anybody could see them.

“This has been lovely,” she said. She looked at her watch, prompting Marcus to do the same. It was gone five. “I should probably be getting home.”

“Aww,” moaned Georgie.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s been wonderful to see you.”

“Do you have to go? Why don’t you come back with us? We’re watching the box set Marcus won at your party.”

“I can’t, sweetheart. I have work tomorrow.”

“You can stay! Marcus has tons of spare rooms, don’t you, Marcus? He won’t mind.”

Abby glanced at Marcus, who tried to discern from her look whether the idea interested her or not. It was hard to tell.

“I don’t mind,” he said, keeping a straight face.

“I don’t have a change of clothes or anything.”

“Go back to your place and I’ll send my driver for you. I’d take you myself, but the Jag’s only got two seats.”

“Please, Abby! It will be so much fun. We’ll have a pyjama party!”

“I don’t see how I can say no to a pyjama party,” said Abby, stroking Georgie’s hair. “Okay, then. I’ll go pack an overnight bag and I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Awesome.”

“If you head through the park it’s probably only a fifteen-minute walk to your flat. I’ll tell the driver to be there for six.”

“Great.”

Marcus watched with Georgie as Abby walked past the palace and out towards Bayswater Road. “You’re an imp,” he said to her.

She grinned. “You like her. I’ve seen the way you look at her all googly eyed.”

“I don’t look at her like that.”

“You do. She looks at you the same way. In the museum you were all...” she mimed a kind of mooning, pouting look and Marcus laughed.

“She’s practically married, so...”

“Hmmm. Well, that doesn’t mean anything these days.”

“Where do you get these things from?”

“Books,” she said.

“You read too much.” He stood, dragged Georgie up with him. “Come on then, imp, we have to go and make sure the apartment is tidy enough for a superstar visitor.”

“You already have a superstar visitor,” she replied, pointing to herself.

“True, true.” He squeezed her shoulder, then they headed in the opposite direction to Abby, back to the museum where he’d parked his car.

\---

As she rode the elevator to Marcus’s apartment, Abby found herself looking forward to spending the evening with him and Georgie more than she’d thought she would. She didn’t have a huge amount of experience with teenage girls outside of work, and it was one thing to spend a couple of hours with them, another entirely to spend an evening and stay overnight. It was a family sort of domesticity she hadn’t known before nor thought she wanted. She wouldn’t have thought Marcus would be enthusiastic about it either, at least not the Marcus she’d met that first night downstairs in the bar, but he seemed to genuinely enjoy the time he spent with Georgie. It was nice to see, and just went to prove that people were often more than they at first appeared. Sometimes they could really surprise you.

The door opened and Georgie was standing in front of it clad in pink pyjamas with flamingos on them. She was a young teenager in some ways, still hanging onto her childhood loves. Abby thought it was cute; most kids today grew up too quickly.

“You’re here!” said Georgie excitedly. She held out her hand to Abby, who took it. “Let me show you around.”

She led Abby into the living room where Marcus was stretched out on the long L-shaped sofa reading a newspaper. He had black-rimmed glasses on which he removed quickly when he noticed her.

“Hi,” he said, folding his newspaper.

“Hi. Nice PJs!” He was wearing a tight black long-sleeved t-shirt and black cotton leggings. His feet were bare and he looked like he’d made no effort at all and yet was still ridiculously handsome.

“I hope you’ve brought yours,” he said in reply.

“Oh, yes, get your PJs on, Abby. We’re going to order pizza and watch one of your shows,” said Georgie, bouncing on her heels.

“Oh, dear. I’m not sure an evening watching me is the best use of your time.”

“Don’t you like watching yourself?”

“I watch myself a lot when I’m acting and producing but no, I’m not a keen watcher of my TV shows.”

“Can we watch one episode, PLEASE Abby!”

“Leave Abby alone, Georgie,” said Marcus.

“No, it’s fine, yes we can watch one. I’ll see if there’s any behind the scenes gossip I can remember from it.”

“Let me show you your room,” said Marcus.

He unfolded his long legs and got up from the sofa. Abby followed him to a room that was next door to his. She was hoping for a moment alone with him so she could at least kiss him as it had been torture being together so long today and not being able to touch, but Georgie followed them in.

“This room has its own en-suite bathroom so you should have everything you need. There’s fresh towels and what have you,” said Marcus, hovering at the door.

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

He ushered Georgie out and Abby unpacked her few items and got changed. It felt increasingly bizarre being here under these circumstances. She’d have to sneak into his room later like it was the olden times where you weren’t supposed to have sex before marriage but people did anyway, creeping around their parents’ homes when the boyfriend stayed the night. It was kind of exciting! She didn’t wear traditional pyjamas normally, preferring shorts and a t-shirt unless she was out to impress, which wouldn’t be suitable with Georgie around. She’d called in at The White Company on her way back from the park and picked up a white cotton pair with a grey floral design and she put those on.

Marcus and Georgie were sitting on the sofa looking at a menu when she entered the living room. He looked her over with an appreciative raise of his eyebrows.

“Nice!” he said.

“What pizza do you want?” said Georgie, patting the seat next to her.

“Whatever you want is fine.” Abby sat where indicated, looking behind Georgie’s bent head to Marcus who was on the other side. He shrugged and pulled a what can you do face at the distance between them.

Marcus ordered a large pepperoni pizza and made them all drinks. Abby’s was in a tall glass and looked like lemonade but when she tasted it she got a hit of alcohol that went straight to her extremities. She looked over at Marcus.

“A cheeky lemonade,” he said with a wink.

“What’s a cheeky lemonade?” said Georgie.

“It has extra bubbles.”

“Does mine have extra bubbles?”

“Yours is practically all bubbles,” he said.

Georgie put on a DVD of a TV show Abby had been in a few years before where she’d played a lawyer. It was a recurring role and paid enough for her to make her movies during the summer months, but it wasn’t a piece of work she was particularly proud of. She’d done the best she could with the material she’d been given and was glad in some ways when her character was killed off in a dramatic courtroom shooting.

She entertained Georgie and Marcus with tales of life on the set while they ate their pizza and watched a couple of episodes.

“I think that’s about as much as I can bear,” said Abby as Georgie was about to press play on a third episode. “I wondered if it would be fun if we watched Night at the Museum seeing as how we were there earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, that would be fun!” said Georgie.

Marcus rented the movie and got them another drink. The movie was as ridiculous as Abby remembered and they were all laughing at the monkey peeing on the hapless Larry. Every time a new actor appeared Georgie asked if Abby knew them, until Marcus told her to stop pestering. Her pouting in response didn’t last long as the movie was too funny and she was laughing again a couple of minutes later.

“This is so much fun,” she said, tentatively resting her head on Abby’s shoulder.

“It is. Thank you for inviting me.” Abby put her arm around Georgie who snuggled in closer.

A minute later Abby felt a hand on the back of her neck, stroking it softly, making the hairs stand up. She turned to look at Marcus who put his finger to his lips to tell her to keep quiet. It was an exquisite torture having him massage her neck and the back of her head without being able to moan with the pleasure of it.

By ten-thirty the movie was over and Georgie was asleep. Marcus lifted her gently, carried her to her bedroom with Abby following.

“Night, Marcus. Night, Abby,” she mumbled.

“Night, sweetheart,” said Abby, giving her a kiss on her forehead.

She and Marcus stood in the doorway watching her, listening to her even breaths.

“I think she’s gone,” whispered Marcus, closing the door softly.

“Yeah,” said Abby, and then she found herself swept up into his arms.

“Now it’s time to put you to bed,” he said, taking her to his room and depositing her on top of his sheets.

“But this is not where I’m sleeping, sir,” she said, giggling.

“You won’t be sleeping.”

“Oh, my!”

He straddled her, fingered the buttons on her pyjama top, eased them out of their slots. “This is ridiculously sexy,” he said, smirking.

“I didn’t think Georgie would approve of my little red shorts.”

“She might approve too much. She has a crush on you, you’re all she’s talked about since we got home.”

“I guess it’s a Kane family thing, then.”

“I suppose it is.” He opened the top, his palms brushing her breasts as he pushed it back.

Abby moaned at the intimate contact. Finally, she was getting the touch she’d been craving.

“Shush,” said Marcus. “We have to be quiet. There are ears in the apartment.”

“That’s going to be really hard.”

“Tell me about it.”

He peeled down the pyjama bottoms, spread her legs and dived straight in, his tongue a hot, wet balm to her aching sex. Abby gripped the sheets to stop herself from crying out.

She took him in her mouth afterwards, tortured him with her lips and tongue and teeth until he was begging her in a strangled whisper to put him out of his misery. She obliged by sinking down onto his cock and rocking, slowly, trying to build the pleasure gradually so there’d be less chance of an outburst.

“Now I really do feel like a parent,” whispered Marcus, as he held her ass and guided her up and down his cock.

Abby laughed silently, making her breasts heave.

“Oh, very nice. That’s a definite perk of this situation,” said Marcus, making her laugh even more.

Afterwards, they lay on their sides facing each other.

“That was a fun experiment,” said Marcus.

“Yeah, definitely a first for me.”

“Now we know Georgie being here doesn’t mean you can’t stay if you want to.”

“That’s true. I had a nice day with her today. I’d be happy to do it again.”

“We will. You can pick the place we visit next time,” he said, stroking her cheek.

“Mmm, I will,” said Abby, settling onto her pillow. “Don’t let me fall asleep. I have to go back to my room before Georgie sees me in here.”

“I won’t,” replied Marcus.”

Abby closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again daylight was streaming into the room. Oh, fuck! She looked at the clock. It was six o’clock already. She didn’t know what time Georgie usually got up but it could be anytime. She crept out of bed not wanting to disturb Marcus who was still snoring softly with his back to her.

She’d been in her own bed no more than five minutes when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said, sitting up and pretending to rub her eyes.

Georgie entered. “Did I wake you?”

“No. I’ve been awake a few minutes.”

“Oh, cool.” She sat on the end of the bed, stared at Abby.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I just wish you could come shopping with us today, Marcus is just the worse person to do it with. He just stands around and moans.”

“A lot of men are like that, or they pretend to be. It’s mainly because they’d be happy living in shorts and t-shirts their entire lives.”

“I would be happy like that.”

“Me too, to be honest. I’m sure you’ll have a nice day. He’s a good brother.”

Georgie looked down at the duvet then looked up at Abby through her eyelashes in a move calculated to look innocent but which was probably far from it.

“Do you like him?” she said.

“I think he’s a great guy, yes.”

“I know but, like, do you like him like him?”

Abby was at a loss as to how to respond to that. Answer a question with a question, that was how she usually dealt with intrusive questions from the press. “What makes you ask that?”

Georgie shrugged. “I just thought maybe you did.”

“I’m only here for another three or four months, Georgie. I think we need to bear that in mind even though we’re having a lot of fun.”

“I don’t want you to go back,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “Marcus doesn’t either.”

“Has he said that?” Abby wondered what on earth Marcus was doing talking about their relationship with Georgie.

“No. I can just tell.”

“Okay, I see. Well, there are two ways to look at this. We can be sad every day because our time together will come to an end or we can just enjoy each day and try and have the most fun. I know which one I’d rather do.”

“I suppose,” sniffed Georgie.

“We’ll go out again next time you’re in London.”

“Oh, yay!” said Georgie, brightening up.

“Okay. I need to get dressed now, because I have to get to work soon, so I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“I’ll go and wake Marcus,” said Georgie, jumping off the bed and running out of the door.

Abby showered and dressed quickly, trying not to think about Georgie’s words and what a slippery slope they all seemed to be on. Feelings were going to be hurt that much was obvious, because the end result of this couldn’t be changed. Her life was in New York and that’s where she had to be.

Marcus was up when she entered the kitchen, dressed in his black pyjamas again, not that they really looked like pyjamas. He could go outside now in them and not raise an eyebrow, well, apart from an admiring one.

“What would you like for breakfast?” he said. “We’re having boiled eggs.”

“And soldiers!” said Georgie.

“What are soldiers?”

“Toasted bread cut into thin slices for dipping,” said Marcus.

“Sounds good.”

Abby made coffee while Marcus boiled the eggs and made the toast. They sat at the breakfast bar to eat. Georgie was quiet at first but Abby managed to brighten her up with a couple of wild stories about breakfasts on set. They were only mildly exaggerated for comic effect.

At seven-thirty Marcus got a text to say the car service was waiting and Abby got her things together to leave. Georgie’s hug was warm and fierce and Abby had to ease herself out of it when she showed no signs of letting go.

“I’ll see you real soon,” she said. “I’ll pick something fun for us to do.”

“Okay. I can’t wait for that.”

“I’ll ride down with you,” said Marcus as the elevator door pinged.

They got in and stood next to each other as it descended. “That was a lot of fun,” said Marcus. “More so than I expected, not that I didn’t expect to have fun with you, just not, you know... museums et cetera.”

“I know,” said Abby, reaching up to kiss him and let him out of the hole he was digging. “I had a great time too.”

Marcus put his arms around her, kissed her sweetly. “I’ll see you soon, though.”

“Oh, you will. I’ll call you.” She moved away from him just as the door started to open. People got in as she stepped out so she waved goodbye and headed for the door. This was getting hard, really hard. She sat in the back of the car and opened her script, reading and making notes, anything to take her mind off Marcus, and his adorable sister, and the happiness she felt when she was with them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby wants to see more of England, and Kane has a proposal for her.

“God, I’m exhausted!” said Abby as she rolled onto her back after a particularly strenuous bout of sex with Marcus. She didn’t know where she got the energy. They’d spent the last two weekends in his apartment doing little else except lazing on his balcony and having sex. “I don’t need to work out when I’m with you.”

“You’ve been good for my middle-aged spread,” he said, patting his belly and chuckling.

“Despite the amount of food we eat I’ve lost five pounds these last few weeks.”

“Don’t they say sex is the best form of exercise? A whole-body workout.”

“It is with you!”

“You light my fire,” he said, turning onto his side and running the back of his hand down her body.

“Mmm, don’t start again,” she murmured.

“You know, if you’re feeling achy, maybe a body massage would be helpful,” he said, reaching for the discarded Wand and turning it on.

He rolled it over her entire body, turning her over to do her back and ass and then back onto her front. Abby was tingling from head to toe by the time he reached the area that was aching the most. He turned it onto pulse, increased the speed, and less than ten seconds later she was arching off the bed.

“Good?” he said, smirking at her.

She puffed out a long breath in response.

On the Sunday morning they ate breakfast on the balcony. The day was already warm and full of promise.

“Shall we go somewhere?” said Abby, suddenly inspired by the beauty of the day to do something other than stay in the apartment. She was sore from yesterday’s marathon sessions, and wasn’t certain she was capable of another round, not right away.

Marcus looked surprised rather than disappointed. “I didn’t think you wanted to be seen alone with me.”

“Don’t put it like that! That makes it sound, I don’t know...”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. We have to be careful, don’t we? I understand that.”

“I know, sorry. Surely we can go somewhere or do something where no one will see us.”

“In the south of England?” Marcus shook his head, smiling ruefully.

“I feel like some fresh air. I haven’t really seen much of this country yet. It would be nice to get out, that’s all.”

Marcus popped a grape into his mouth and stared at the view. “We could go for a drive maybe, north rather than south, it will be marginally less busy.”

“That sounds great.”

“You like history, don’t you?”

“I love history, and this country is full of it.”

“There’s a site up near the coast in Suffolk that’s about fourteen hundred years old. It’s an Anglo-Saxon royal burial ground, which is kind of like the pyramids in Egypt only they’re earth mounds. One of them contained an entire ship.”

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing.”

“It’s a couple of hours drive and it’s usually pretty quiet, and we could go to Aldeburgh afterwards, there’s a farmers’ market there which is right on the coast.”

“I definitely want to do this!” said Abby, excited at the prospect of seeing something so old and a part of England other than London.

“Okay then, we’ll do it!”

Half an hour later they were in Marcus’s car and heading out of London. He had the top down and the breeze was wonderful as they drove through the city streets. Marcus pointed out the sights to Abby and she stared out of the window, fascinated by it. There was so much more history here than in New York and everybody seemed to take it for granted. She supposed you would if it was what you were used to.

Most of the journey was along a fast highway, grey and crowded with buildings at first, gradually giving way to greener surrounds. Marcus said he’d return via the scenic route, but this was the quickest way if they wanted to make the most of their time in Suffolk. Abby was happy to sit in the car and watch the world go by. The radio was tuned to a station playing older hits and she caught Marcus humming to some of the songs as he drove.

After a couple of hours the road became small and narrow, passing through quaint villages with painted houses. The entrance to the ancient site at Sutton Hoo was through non-descript farmland, the car park was small and the visitor centre understated. Abby had expected something grander with more pizzazz, but she supposed that wasn’t the British way. They probably thought nothing of fourteen hundred-year-old burial sites. Maybe they were two a penny.

Marcus got out of the car and stretched. “Told you it’d be quiet,” he said, looking around at the five other cars in the car park.

“You Brits take your history for granted.”

“On a day like this most people are probably at the beach. If I’d taken you to Brighton you wouldn’t be able to move for people.”

“I’m glad we came here.” She linked her arm through his, figuring she was safe out here with barely a handful of people, plus she was in her least starry outfit of jeans and t-shirt, and her sunglasses covered half her face. The chances of someone recognising her were zero.

Marcus paid in the visitor centre and bought a guidebook. They walked out into beautiful green countryside and along a grassy path. Small mounds of earth dotted the landscape looking like the excavations of giant moles. They stopped in front of one of them and Marcus walked up to the top. Abby followed.

“This is the most famous mound,” he said.

Abby looked around. It was just a small grassy hill effectively.

“You don’t look impressed,” said Marcus, grinning.

“I guess it’s smaller than I expected.”

“Were you hoping for actual pyramid sized?”

“No, I guess I didn’t really know what I thought it would be.”

“It may look small, but beneath this they found the remains of a ninety-foot long ship.”

“Ninety feet?”

“Yeah. It stretched from that post to that other one,” he said, indicating two square fence posts sticking out of the ground.

“I can’t believe they got a whole ship in there.”

“Yes, look.” He showed her the picture in the guidebook, and it was more impressive than the outward appearance of its resting place.

“Fourteen hundred-years-old and it was still there?”

“Mainly the iron rivets, some of the wood, although that rotted quickly once exposed to the air.”

“Amazing!”

They wandered the other mounds and then returned to the visitor centre and the exhibition of all the treasures that had been found buried beneath the mounds, including an amazing helmet. The original was rusted but a replica showed how splendid it would have been with its bronzed covering and its gold dragon motif.

“It weighed the equivalent of two and a half bags of flour,” said Marcus.

“Oh, my God, imagine wearing that on your head all day.”

“On a day like this it would have been torture.”

They had a coffee and a blueberry muffin in the café and then Marcus drove down a country lane, parking up in a layby next to a field of sunflowers.

“What are we doing here?” said Abby.

“What you’re supposed to do when you’re out for a drive in the countryside,” replied Marcus, leaning across and kissing her.

They made out as best they could in the tiny cramped seats of the car, the sun beating down on them, the scent of meadow flowers drifting across. Abby didn’t think life could get more perfect.

“Are you sure you’re up for Aldeburgh?” said Marcus. “There will be a crowd probably.”

“Yeah, I doubt anyone will recognise me.”

They drove to a place called Snape Maltings, which was an amazing complex next to a beautiful river. It was a series of buildings that used to be a brewery but now was an arts centre. There were craft shops and boutiques, a concert hall and galleries. Abby was in heaven wandering around it all.

“Don’t forget the boot of my car is tiny,” said Marcus as she bought an antique jug with a floral design to go with an oil painting of the Suffolk landscape and a cute box made from driftwood she’d already purchased.

“We’re going to need a bigger car,” she said, causing Marcus to laugh.

From the Maltings they drove to Aldeburgh, bought food from the farmers’ market, then wandered hand in hand through narrow streets where the houses were painted blue and pink and yellow. They ended up at the beach, which unlike the one Marcus had talked about at Brighton was relatively empty. They ate the food they'd bought, sitting on a bench overlooking the beach. Afterwards, they took off their socks and shoes and the sand was hot beneath Abby’s feet. She headed to the water, rolled up her jeans and walked in until it reached her calves. Marcus followed behind her, and it was all peaceful and lovely until she felt a splash against the back of her legs. She turned to look at him but he was staring out at the sea an innocent look on his face. A few seconds later the same thing happened again and she spun around quicker this time, caught him with his foot in the air, tell-tale droplets of water dripping from it.

“You bastard!” she said.

“What did I do?”

“You know what you did.”

She kicked some water up at him to demonstrate and he stood with hands on hips looking down at his damp jeans as though he was shocked at her behaviour.

“I don’t know what you mean!” he said, and then he splashed more water at her and soon they were chasing each other up and down the seashore. They were both soaked by the time they stopped, panting for breath in the heat.

“I’ve got wet knickers now!” said Abby, wringing water out of her t-shirt.

“That’s nothing new,” smirked Marcus.

“I wish I could take these jeans off; they’re sticking to me.”

“Take them off, no one will care. It’s only like having a bikini on.”

“True.” She took off her jeans and Marcus did the same. They walked along the beach holding the clothes in front of them to dry.

“This isn’t something I ever imagined doing in England,” laughed Abby.

“Life with me is full of surprises,” said Marcus.

He didn’t seem to realise what he’d said so Abby just smiled. Life with him. Is this what it would be like, or were they just living in a bubble where everything was fun and nothing else mattered? It was all too perfect, which shouldn’t be a bad thing, and it wasn’t, not really. She wouldn’t swap this experience for anything, didn’t regret starting it even though it was heading in a direction neither of them had anticipated. Still, they were setting themselves up for heartache, she knew that. It was like an addiction, where you knew that what you were about to do was a bad idea, but also knew you were going to do it anyway. She could see now how this was going to play out, how it would end, but she wasn’t going to stop it. Couldn’t stop it.

Marcus parked near a small woodland on the way back and they walked a short way in. He didn’t say anything, and Abby’s pulse raced with the possibilities as she followed him. He stopped in a copse where the light was dappled, pressed her against a tree. His hands were beneath her t-shirt fondling her breasts and he was kissing her, his tongue deep in her mouth.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered when they paused for breath, his fingers fumbling with her jeans.

“I know, I know. I’m the same,” she said, unzipping his pants and yanking them down.

They pulled off their boots and pants and he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him and he pushed inside. She had no care for anything except the feel of him thrusting in and out, pressing her against the rough bark of the tree. He was nibbling her neck, her hands were in his hair, gripping him.

“Oh, god, god!” she cried as she came hard.

Marcus thrust harder and harder, growling like a wild animal as he emptied inside her.

“Jesus fuck!” he said as he lowered her to the ground. “I don’t know what comes over me sometimes with you.”

“I know. It’s intense.” Abby looked around, only now thinking that someone might be watching. There was nobody she could discern. She pulled on her knickers and jeans, fastened up her boots.

Marcus stroked her cheek with his thumb. He looked like he was about to say something and Abby prayed that he wouldn’t say anything that couldn’t be taken back.

“You constantly amaze me,” he said, kissing her softly.

“It’s you, you’re something else.”

“It’s both of us. We’re great together.”

He took her by the hand and led her back to the car. They listened to music the rest of the way, and Abby put thoughts of what would probably never be to the back of her mind and enjoyed the journey through the English countryside and the wind in her hair.

Back at the apartment they sat on the balcony sipping cocktails.

“I have to be away early tomorrow,” Abby said. “I have a meeting first thing with the accountants.”

“Is everything okay?” said Marcus.

“Yes, just some problems with one of the backers. They might be about to pull out.”

“Oh, no! What’s the problem?”

“A downturn in their sector. They’re not sure they can justify funding the movie when they might have to let staff go.”

“Is that a big blow? Will you still be able to complete the film?”

“I’ll just have to tighten my belt, lose a few of the more expensive effects. I’m used to it.”

He nodded, sipped his cocktail. Abby closed her eyes, enjoyed the last rays of the sun on her face.

“I could invest,” Marcus said, startling her from her daydream. She sat straighter, looked at him.

“That’s not why I told you that.”

“I know, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? I have money, you need money. Voila!”

Abby was silent as she tried to think this through. Yes, she needed the money but it was a sizable amount and that would make Marcus a significant shareholder in the production. He would come to financial meetings and get reports. He’d be involved a lot longer than the few months she was here getting the shots. It would be another six months at least before the film was ready for release, and then there would be more meetings, repayments, updates. It was a big commitment that would keep him in her life past the time she was due to return to New York.

“How much do you need?” he said.

“Half a million. Dollars.”

“Okay,” he said, not even flinching. Just how rich was he?

“It’s a very generous offer, Marcus, really generous.”

“But...”

“But I need to think about it. There’s a lot involved, and I don’t know for sure yet that these investors are going to back out.”

“I understand that. The offer’s there if you want it, or even if they don’t back out, if you want a safety cushion, or want to buy something better quality. I’d be happy to help you.”

“I know you would. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

Abby’s mind was a whirl of confusion as she drank her cocktail and chatted casually to Marcus. There was no denying the money would be useful one way or another. The question was about Marcus, and whether she wanted him in her life beyond the time they’d agreed, and what that would mean.

\---

On the Monday evening Abby sat on her roof terrace nursing a glass of white wine. It was a beautiful evening and the city around her was alive with laughter and conversation, people having fun. She’d had an amazing weekend with Marcus and a great afternoon’s shooting on set. She should be happy, but she wasn’t. She felt sad, depressed, overwhelmed.

Her meeting with the accountants that morning had been worse than she’d feared. There was no doubt the backers were going to pull out, and although that triggered an insurance clause, any money received wouldn’t be enough and would certainly come too late to save the movie. She’d told Marcus she’d have to tighten her belt, but the truth was losing half a million dollars out of a total budget of two million was a huge loss. Even if she moved to a cheap apartment and didn’t pay herself anything other than her expenses it wouldn’t be enough. She was going to have to make redundancies or shut down production altogether. She didn’t want to do either. They were over halfway through the process, only had six weeks of filming and the same of post left to do here in London. She couldn’t give up now.

There was a simple solution of course, which was to allow Marcus to invest. It made the most sense, would be easy to do. He probably had cash available instantly so they wouldn’t even have to pause production. It was complicated, though, on so many levels. The first one involved that old adage you should never mix business with pleasure. Abby had never allowed anyone from her personal life to invest in her movies. It was easier that way, saved any fallout if the movie tanked or never even made it to production.

Secondly, people who invested large sums of money often wanted to input, get an executive producer credit, come to set, share their ideas, and that often led to arguments or the compromising of artistic vision. She was happy to discuss her decisions with others in the business but not with random businessmen who thought that plunging their dollars into her movies meant that they owned her and that she should do whatever they wanted. Marcus wasn’t like that, but then that often seemed to be the case. Being part of the movie-making process sometimes changed people, made them think they were gods.

Most importantly, though, was her relationship with Marcus, and what it meant. She had twelve weeks left here, and while it would be nice to work more closely with him, to see him at financial meetings and other events, that was also part of the problem. The more she saw of him, the harder it was going to be to leave in November. It was already something she was trying not to think about because they were having a wonderful time together and the thought of it coming to an end was too much to bear.

Maybe they could continue somehow long-distance but how would that work? Plus, she was emerging from a ten-year relationship that had ended abruptly. She couldn’t trust herself or her feelings right now. She was emotionally battered and bruised, and Marcus had been a balm to her soul, a distraction, but she had to go back and face it all, sort things out, decide what she wanted. If they ended as they’d agreed, what would it be like still having to see him occasionally and talk to him? It might be heaping more pain on top of what she was already carrying.

She sighed, took a long draught of her wine. They were both adults. Surely they could cope, remain friends even? They would look back on this time fondly as a wonderful, glorious shared experience. She needed the money, there was no time to find another investor. Roan had given all he could and there was no way on Earth she was asking Thelonious Jaha. She shuddered at the thought. No, Marcus was the perfect solution. Peoples’ jobs were at stake, their livelihoods, not to mention the importance of the story she was telling. She couldn’t risk all of that because things might get awkward for her down the line. It was for the best.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have Abby and Marcus been too indiscreet?

Two days after her meeting with the accountants Abby walked onto set and noticed a few people staring at her. She looked down at herself to see if she’d forgotten to put her pants on or had odd shoes or something. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong. She felt her hair, it was neatly tied in its ponytail. She was heading towards her chair when Raven approached her and steered her away.

“What’s going on?” said Abby, confused and starting to feel apprehensive.

“Let’s go sit in the truck.” Raven headed for the one Abby had sat in when she was talking and doing other things on the phone with Marcus. She felt herself redden with the memory as she got into the same seat.

“You’re worrying me, Raven. Have people heard about the financial problems because that’s all going to be sorted real soon. There’s no need to worry.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s this.” Raven handed Abby her iPad, which was open to a webpage. The headline was hard to ignore.

_Finding a Man. Has Actress Abby Griffin Found More Than Amy in London?_

There was a slightly blurry picture of her and Marcus beneath the headline. They were standing close together, staring into each other’s eyes. His hand was on her arm. It looked like it had been taken at the museum. Oh, God! She continued reading, her heart in her mouth.

_American actress Abby Griffin, 38, has been in London for three months shooting a film based on the book Finding Amy by British author, E. P. Meadows. However, it looks as though she’s been working on more than the film during her time here. The actress was spotted recently enjoying a date at the Natural History Museum, getting up close and personal with a handsome mystery man._

_The Daily Mail can exclusively reveal that the mystery man is none other than our very own Marcus Kane, the uber rich CEO of Kane International, who is considered by many to be London’s most eligible bachelor. Mr Kane, 40, has an undisputable reputation as a ladies’ man. Has Miss Griffin succumbed to his considerable charms and become the latest in a long line of conquests?_

_A source told the Daily Mail that the loved-up pair were accompanied by Mr Kane’s sister, Georgina, who is just thirteen years of age. The three of them looked very comfortable together said the source, “like a family”._

There was another picture of Abby, Marcus and Georgie coming out of the café. Abby had her arm around Georgie and all three of them were laughing. They’d still been joking about the monkey in the Museum movie. She cringed at how it all looked, hardly dared to read on, but forced herself. It only got worse.

_They certainly make an attractive couple. The problem with this cosy scenario is that Miss Griffin already has a long-term boyfriend, the star of beloved American family drama, ‘These Are The Days’, Spencer Newman, 42. Indeed, she recently talked about her love for him in an interview with The Observer Magazine, gushing that he was a wonderful caring man she felt she’d practically grown up with as they’d got their breaks in Hollywood around the same time. There was no hint in the article that their decade-long relationship was on the rocks. The Daily Mail has reached out to representatives of all parties but has received no reply._

Abby stared at the screen. “This is...” she said, unable to find the words.

“I know,” said Raven, putting her hand on Abby’s arm. “It’s all bullshit. They take the most innocent things and twist them into something they’re not.”

Abby nodded, but the article was more accurate than Raven knew, than even the gutter snipes who’d written this garbage knew. The pictures portrayed the truth, the happiness she’d felt with Marcus and Georgie, the close bond they’d built up. There was no denying that.

“He’s a friend, they’re friends,” she said quietly.

“I know. He’s the guy who won the date with you at the auction, brought his sister along which I thought was just the cutest thing.”

“Yeah, he’s just a nice guy.”

“Of course. No one believes it, no one who knows you anyway. We know you wouldn’t cheat on Spencer.”

Abby’s heart sank at Raven’s words. She didn’t know about Spencer’s years of infidelity, very few people did. Now Abby was the one in the headlines, branded a cheat. It felt so unfair and yet she had no right to complain because in many ways it was true. She and Spencer hadn’t officially broken up even though he was off with his other woman, and he didn’t know about Marcus, no one did, or at least they hadn’t until now. Tears welled and dripped down her cheeks.

“Oh, Abby,” said Raven, leaning across and pulling her into an awkward hug. Abby felt guilty receiving this kindness but took it anyway because she needed it. She clung to Raven, let out some of the emotion that had been building inside her for weeks, months really.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed when they parted.

“Don’t be sorry. Look, it’s not that bad. Spencer will understand. These rags are all the same. They just make stuff up based on nothing.”

“They haven’t tried to contact me like they say they have,” Abby said, looking at the article again.

“Of course not. They know it’s not true that’s why. They don’t want the truth so they don’t go looking for it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, so I think you need to just say a quick word to the crew, just tell them that it’s bullshit and then we can get on with the day’s work. What do you say?”

“I think I’d rather just... I think it’s best if I ignore it. I don’t want to get misquoted to the press.”

Raven’s sceptical frown told Abby she didn’t agree with what she wanted, but she nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want. It’s your personal business anyway.”

“Yes, thanks. Can you just give me a minute? I need to fix my makeup.”

“Sure, yes, no problem. I’ll see you on set.”

Raven left the truck and Abby sat back against the seat. She wasn’t sure what to do for the best. She didn’t want to make a statement and have to lie to her friends and colleagues. She also didn’t want to make a big deal out of what was essentially pure speculation and mischief-making on behalf of the newspaper. She’d have to talk to Marcus, let him know if he didn’t already. She pulled up his number, pressed call. It went through to voicemail.

“Hi, it’s Abby. We need to talk. There’s a story in the paper about us if you haven’t seen it already. It’s in the Daily Mail. I’m going to be on set all day but call me anyway.”

She ended the call and rummaged in her bag for her compact, opening it and checking her face. She looked okay, just a few streaks of mascara which she wiped away. She took a deep breath, then opened the door and jumped out of the truck. Time to face the day.

\---

Marcus got out of a long meeting with his accountants at four o’clock and went straight to his car. He’d floated the idea of him investing in Abby’s film and it had prompted some in-depth discussions and concerns about the volatility of the entertainment industry. He’d been prepared for their scepticism and their questions. He had joked with Abby about not having to earn his money but the truth was he’d been an eager pupil at the feet of his father and he hadn’t increased the company’s profits since taking the reins by being stupid. He managed his personal finances with the same diligence.

Since he’d mentioned investing to Abby, he’d researched the financial success of her previous films and the profitability of the industry at the present time. He wasn’t interested in making money from it, but he wasn’t going to throw his fortune away either. The accountants had advised him to use one of his trusts as the investment vehicle which would limit his personal liability should it all go wrong. He’d requested they start to draw up the papers so he’d be ready if and when she said yes.

He checked his phone when he got in his car and saw there was a voicemail from Abby. He listened to it with alarm, particularly at the tension in her voice. She sounded upset, which he could understand. He googled the article and read it, shaking his head at the pathetic attempt at creating something newsworthy out of nothing. How had they got the photos? He cast his mind back to that day. He hadn’t noticed anybody taking pictures but then he’d had eyes only for Abby and Georgie, as the photo showed. There was that fan, the one who’d asked for a selfie with Abby. Had she been stalking them prior to that? Why would a fan betray her like that?

He called Abby and she answered in hushed tones.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Is this a good time?”

“Not really, but thanks for calling.”

“No problem. I’m really sorry, Abby. It’s a shitty thing for them to have done.”

“It’s awful, Marcus. Everyone was looking at me this morning and I had no idea why until Raven told me.”

“I hadn’t heard either. I’ve been in a meeting all day which is why it’s taken me so long to call.”

“Journalists have been calling my production company all day. Have you not had any calls?”

“No one’s called my personal number, and I haven’t been back to the office.”

“Yes, okay. I’ll be right there,” she said, her voice muffled. “Sorry, I’m going to have to go. We’re in the middle of a shoot.”

“Shall I come over later so we can talk?”

“What if someone sees you?”

“I’ll book a hotel room nearby. Sinclair will help me out. I’ll text you the details.”

“Okay then. I gotta go. Bye.”

“Bye,” he said, but the line had already gone dead.

Fuck! Goddamn bloody pathetic excuses for journalists! Why the fuck did they care what other people did? He and Abby weren’t doing anything wrong and it was no one else’s business anyway but already everything had changed because of this. He couldn’t go to her place and she probably wouldn’t come to his. She sounded nervous and upset and he could kill the people who’d done this to her.

He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart then rang the office. It turned out they’d been receiving calls all day as well and had referred everyone to the company’s lawyers who were saying nothing. He told his secretary to keep it that way until he’d had chance to decide what to do. His next call was to his parents’ home. His father answered.

“Hi dad,” he said.

“Everything alright, son?” Sir Anthony Kane said, probably because it was unusual for Marcus to call in the middle of the week or pretty much anytime.

“I have a bit of a situation with the press.”

His father groaned. “What have you done now?”

“Nothing bad. There’s a story in the Daily Mail about me and a friend, Georgie may have mentioned her, Abby Griffin? She’s an actress and we’re just friends but they’re making it out to be more than that.”

“If you’re just friends what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem for me, it’s just that she has a partner over in America and...”

“Are you serious, Marcus? A married woman!”

“She’s not married, not technically. It’s not like that, I can’t explain it to you right now over the phone. The reason I’m calling is that Georgie is mentioned in the article. There’s a picture. They’ve blurred her out, but she’s mentioned by name.”

“How the hell has that come about?”

“They took the pictures the weekend she was staying with me. We went to the Natural History Museum and Abby came with us. Georgie really likes her.”

“I know. It’s all we bloody hear, Abby this, Abby that. Who is she exactly, Marcus?”

“She’s a friend like I said. She’s a good person, dad, you’d like her.”

His father’s harrumph in reply told Marcus what he thought about that.

“I just thought you should know so you can be prepared in case there are any calls from the press.”

His father sighed loudly. “It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve had to deal with the consequences of your behaviour.”

Marcus bristled at that comment because his father loved to bring up all his past misdemeanours and express his disappointment in his only son. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d taken over the company at a young age and made it even more successful. Did he ever get praise for that? No. his father’s dislike of his private life overshadowed everything else.

“May I speak with Georgie, please. I’d like to explain it to her.”

“We’ll deal with Georgina. I’d prefer it if you kept your shenanigans far away from your sister. She’s at an impressionable age.”

“They’re not shenanigans as you put it. We had a day out at a museum and enjoyed each other’s company! What the hell is wrong with that?”

“I know you, son.”

“No, you don’t. You have your own image of me, one that’s carved in stone, and it doesn’t matter what I do it will never change.”

“It will change the day you stop bringing the press to our door and dating unsuitable women. When are you going to settle down, Marcus? You’re forty years old and you still act like a teenager.”

There was no point continuing this conversation. They’d been here so many times before Marcus knew exactly how it would play out.

“Please be respectful towards me when you tell Georgie, and if she wants to call me I’m here for her.”

“It’s time to grow up, Marcus.”

“Bye, dad.” Marcus ended the call and threw his phone onto the passenger seat of his car. “Tosser!” he said. He banged the steering wheel in frustration. He doubted his father would ever be proud of him, and hated the fact that part of him still wanted his approval nevertheless.

His final call was to Sinclair who got him a room at a boutique hotel he owned near Kensington Gardens, a ten-minute walk from Abby’s flat. He booked them in under the name Mr and Mrs Smith which Marcus didn’t find amusing the mood he was in, but Sinclair thought it was hilarious and wouldn’t be budged on the subject. He texted Abby the details then drove home to pack an overnight bag in case they stayed the night. There were no signs of paparazzi outside his building, but he supposed they could have been inside. He parked in the underground garage, used the stairs to avoid the lobby.

By seven o’clock he was at the hotel, one of the traditional Victorian townhouses with whitewashed walls and columned entrances that defined the elegant parts of London. Sinclair had put them in the master suite which had a huge bed, a dining table for two and a view of the Gardens. A bottle of French white wine was in a bucket on the table and he poured himself a glass and sat sipping it at the open window, waiting for Abby to arrive.

The door opened half an hour later and she walked in, dressed in grey jeans and a white blouse with red flowers. She puffed out an exasperated breath when she saw him.

“Are you okay?” Marcus said, getting to his feet.

She nodded, dumped a large bag on the bed and headed towards him. They embraced and he held her tight to him, his lips pressed to the side of her head. “It will be alright,” he murmured.

She pulled away from him with a sigh. “I’m more annoyed than anything. It feels so unfair, all of it.”

“I know. I bet it does.” He poured her a glass of wine and she sat in the chair opposite him, taking a long, slow sip.

“That’s nice,” she said, setting the glass down.

“Do you want to order some food?”

“Maybe later.” She closed her eyes, swayed a little. Marcus waited while she calmed herself.

“What happened at work?” he said when she opened her eyes again.

She told him about her conversation with Raven and the calls the production office had taken. A couple of photographers snapped her leaving set and there was another one at her flat. She’d ordered a taxi to bring her to the hotel so there was no risk of being followed. Marcus had been the subject of media attention a few times before, so he understood how annoying it was to have them hanging around everywhere you went.

“What about fuckwit, have you spoken to him?”

“I tried calling him when I got back to the flat but he didn’t answer. I got hold of his assistant and she said he was on a retreat up at Big Sur with a friend. You know who the friend is.”

“Yes. At least you don’t have to worry about him for a while.”

“I guess.” She obsessively tucked some stray hairs behind her ears, over and over again. “What I said in that Observer article about how wonderful he was. I did that interview before I found out about his cheating. Things weren’t wonderful at the time, but you don’t admit things like that in magazine articles. It’s part of the game, I suppose, pretend everything’s okay, and I didn’t realise it was as bad as it was.”

She was talking quickly, not looking at him as though she had something to be ashamed about.

“I understand how that works, believe me. You don’t have to worry about what I think regarding him. I’m on your side.”

“I know you are.” She looked defeated, her shoulders slumped, her mouth downturned. He’d never seen her like this. She was usually such a livewire.

“My office has been directing calls to our lawyers and they’re saying nothing.”

“That’s good.” She drank some more wine. “Oh, Georgie, Marcus! Have you spoken to her?”

“Not directly, but I spoke to my dad and he was going to have a chat with her.”

“Oh, good. Was he okay?”

“Yeah, he was fine.”

“I should call her. I feel so bad that they mentioned her in the article. I could kill them, Marcus!”

“I felt the same. You can rest assured the Mail won’t be receiving any more press releases from Kane International. They’re persona non grata as far as I’m concerned.”

“Thank you.”

“I know it’s a pain in the arse and it looks bad on the surface, but it’s all pure speculation, Abby. There’s nothing of any substance in the article.”

“Did you see that picture of us?” She pulled out her phone, brought up the webpage and put it on the table and tapped the screen. “We look like we’re...” she trailed off.

He knew what she’d been going to say, that it looked like they were in love. There was no denying they looked close, even to his eyes, and he rarely noticed such things in other people. Sinclair had been dating his wife-to-be for three months before Marcus had even realised there was anything between them. That was a long time ago now, but he hadn’t changed much.

“It doesn’t matter how it looks. You’re doing nothing wrong. We’re doing nothing wrong.”

“That’s not how the world sees it. I’m in a relationship as far as everyone else is concerned.”

“You’re allowed to have friends.”

“It seems obvious to me that we’re more than friends.” She crossed her arms, determined, it would seem, to see this in the worst possible light.

“If they’d caught us kissing that’s one thing but we’re in a museum having a nice day out, that’s all.”

“There’s no way you can invest in my movie now. How would it look?” She turned the phone over, rested her head in her hands.

Marcus wasn’t sure what to say at first, so he drank more wine and they sat quietly. He thought quickly through a few scenarios in his mind, tried to see the possibility rather than the defeat.

“You know, the investment might be the perfect thing.”

Abby lifted her head slowly. “How do you mean?”

“Part of your job as producer is to find the money, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, you were schmoozing me. You saw me as a potential investor when I attended your auction evening and you’ve been buttering me up ever since. You took me and my sister, who’s a fan, out for the day and we’re about to announce a deal.”

She looked at him intently and he could see her turning his words over and over in her mind.

“You must do things like that all the time, Abby, I know I do,” Marcus continued.

“I do, yes.”

“Then that’s what it is. Nothing more. It’s the perfect cover when you think about it. It explains anything that anyone might have seen.”

“Apart from walking hand in hand through Aldeburgh,” she said, a slight smile starting to form on her pale face.

“We’ll just have to hope no one saw us sans jeans on the beach.”

“Or sans underwear in the woods!”

“There’s no explaining the woods.”

“No.” She smiled tentatively. “I guess it’s a reasonable explanation.”

“It’s the truth, Abby, close to it as we can get.”

“So, you’re definitely investing then?”

“If you want me.”

Her dark eyes held his gaze. “I do,” she said.

“Then I’m yours.”

Something in his stomach flipped at the double meaning in his words, and a faint blush bloomed on Abby’s cheeks.

“I’ll prepare a statement along the lines of what you said.”

“My accountants are setting up a trust that will be the investor,” Marcus replied.

“I guess we’re partners then.” She held out her hand and he shook it.

“Are you ready for some food, partner?” Marcus said, because he was starving having had only a handful of biscuits all day.

“I think I am now. I’ll have whatever you want.”

“Smoked chicken salad?” said Marcus, perusing the menu.

“That sounds good. I’m going to grab a shower if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Go and relax.”

She came out of the shower half an hour later dressed in a white cotton dressing gown.

“I thought I’d better be decent for when room service arrives,” she said with a grin.

“How decent are you under there?” said Marcus, hopefully.

She opened the robe, flashed him her bare body.

“Oh, god!” he said. “How am I supposed to eat anything knowing you look like that?”

“It’s salad, isn’t it? It’s not like it can go cold.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

When a knock came at the door Abby hid in the bathroom until the food had been delivered. She slunk out afterwards, pulling gently on the ties of her robe.

“Do you want what you’ve invested in,” she said, smirking.

“A bonus so soon? This was definitely a good choice for me to put everything into.” He grabbed the ties of her robe, pulled her to him.

“You think you’re putting everything into me, do you?”

“Just one thing, my best asset.”

“It’s definitely that,” she said, sliding her hand over the bulge in his jeans.

She pushed him onto the bed and peeled off his clothes layer by layer. She spent a long time on his cock, working him slowly, patiently.

“Have you brought that vibrator?” she said, looking up at him.

“Erm, yes,” said Marcus, his pulse racing. “It’s in my bag.” He reached down by the side of the bed, pulled out the box with the toy and handed it to Abby.

She switched the head for the smaller, thinner one and turned it on to a low setting. “Your turn,” she said, and then she ran the Wand slowly over his body from his nipples down to his feet.

He was tingling with the vibrations and the anticipation as she moved it up his inner thigh towards his groin. When it touched his cock he jumped, shocked at the sensation even though he’d been expecting it. She rolled it up and down his shaft and around the head using a gentle pressure which made him hum pleasantly but wasn’t the friction he was used to.

“You can increase the speed,” he said, and she did, sending shockwaves along the length of his cock. “Oh, that’s good.” Then no sooner was he getting used to that sensation than she took the Wand away.

“Turn over,” she murmured.

Marcus was at a fever pitch of anticipation as he rolled onto his stomach. Abby started with the vibrator on the back of his thighs, moving up to his arse. She rubbed it between his legs, along his perineum.

“Oh, jeez,” he groaned.

It felt amazing, but he knew she wasn’t going to stop there and sure enough she headed further until she was rolling it around his hole, and the pleasure of it touching him there was incredible. He cried out when she increased the pressure, let the tip of it slip a tiny way inside him. The nerve endings there came alive like sparking wires and an intense orgasm overwhelmed him. He came with his cock pressed into the mattress and the tip of the vibrator still in his arse.

“Jesus,” he panted. “What the hell?”

He could feel Abby chuckling as she straddled him. “I take it that was good?” she said.

“It was fucking amazing! I’ve never come without direct stimulation of my cock before.”

“I’ve never done that to a man before.” She got off him so he could turn onto his back.

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. I did some research after you first showed me the toys.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I love that you’re up for new things.”

“I love that you are too!”

“I thought when you first mentioned it that you’d done it before.”

“I guess I wanted to seem adventurous,” he admitted.

“You are.” She rolled into his arms and they kissed for an eternity before Marcus eased himself on top of her and wriggled until he was in his favourite position which was with his face between her legs. Doing what she had to him must have really turned her on because she was soaking wet, and even though he tried to take his time with her it wasn’t long before she was bucking against him and calling his name with pleasure. He eased inside her, fucked her slowly.

“We can go further next time if you want,” she said afterwards when they were sitting up on the bed eating the salad.

“What do you mean exactly?”

“I could fuck you with it.”

Marcus nearly choked on a piece of roasted pepper at the casualness with which she said that. “Erm, yeah, okay, maybe.”

“It’s up to you, whatever you want.”

“Right, yes. I’ll think about it.” He supposed if he was being adventurous there was no harm in trying it, and it had felt fantastic, led to an amazing orgasm.

“I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it while we’re eating,” said Abby, a mischievous smile on her face.

“It’s a good job this isn’t sausage salad that’s all I can say,” replied Marcus and they both laughed so hard the bed shook.

They finished the wine and lay side by side on the bed.

“I felt like crap all day, but you always make me feel good,” said Abby, stroking his arm.

“I’m glad I made you feel better. It will be fine. We just have to stick to the story, which is the truth, and brazen it out. No one needs to know anything more than what we tell them.”

“I feel bad lying to people like Raven and my crew.”

“You’re not lying. You have schmoozed me into investing, and we are friends. You’re allowed that, Abby. You’re allowed more but I understand why we can’t be open about us and I respect that.”

“I know you do.” She curled into him and he put his arm around her.

He was pleased with the way the night had gone, because part of him had wondered if it would all prove too much for her, and she’d call it off. He didn’t want that at all, and so it seemed neither did she.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby gets frustrated with the Press and needs a break. Marcus has a plan.

Abby and Marcus issued similar statements the day after their night at the hotel, emphasising their business relationship and announcing his investment in the movie. Abby had no problems with anyone at work after that because they were all excited about the new money, especially as Marcus was giving more than the previous investors, which would enable them to afford a new location for a crucial scene and better equipment. Abby approved the hire of a larger trailer where the actors would be able to better relax between takes. Morale on the set improved instantly and that made her happy.

If she’d thought that the announcement would be enough to deter the journalists and paparazzi she was mistaken. A guy from the Daily Mail seemed to have a bee in his bonnet about her and a couple of stories rehashing things from her past appeared in the paper. They were old things about a time she’d stood up to a bullying producer on one of her TV shows and their fall-out had made the papers. It wasn’t newsworthy but the journalist wrote it in such a way as to make her appear difficult and obstructive. She didn’t dignify the articles with any public comment.

She didn’t have a social media presence, but Raven alerted her to the fact that she was apparently the subject of a cancellation campaign by some of Spencer’s more ardent fans, of which there were many. She didn’t know what being cancelled meant and didn’t care to, but the hostility expressed was disturbing. She ignored all that in the same way she ignored the misogynistic newspaper articles. She had yet to hear from Spencer himself.

A couple of photographers seemed to be everywhere she was – at her home when she left in the morning, hovering around the set, and then at home again in the evening. She started to feel under siege and there was no way she could see Marcus, not even at the hotel because she was too scared the photographers would follow her there and see them together.

A week after the story first broke September arrived, and Abby sat on her terrace in the early evening with a coffee and thought about the unfairness of the situation. All she’d done was get papped at a museum with a friend and now her reputation was under scrutiny and she was still being branded a cheat despite her statement to the contrary. Spencer had cheated for years, most of their relationship, had torrid affairs with his castmates and members of the crew and the wives of at least two studio executives and no one was cancelling him. No one even knew about it. The fees for the Non-Disclosure Agreements had probably paid for vacation homes for the studio’s lawyers.

She was a free agent, dating a man who was also free. It was all incredibly annoying and frustrating, not least because her time in England was limited and a week without seeing Marcus was a week less that they had together.

She could call it a day early, end their personal relationship and make it purely a business one. It was the sensible thing to do to protect herself in the long term and it was going to end anyway in a few weeks. She couldn’t do it, though, just couldn’t. Not yet. She wanted more of him, wanted as much as she could get in these few moments that were left to them. It was going to be hard enough to leave when the time came as it was. If she was going to face that pain, then she was damn well going to get some pleasure beforehand.

At eight o’clock her phone rang, and she smiled as she picked it up, knowing it would be Marcus because he’d taken to calling her every night at this time.

“Hi, Red,” he said.

“Hey, Curly,” she said, chuckling.

“What?” he said with a laugh.

“I’ve finally come up with a name for you, you know, because of your curl, the one that flops down.”

“The one that turns you on so much. Hmmm. Not sure what I think about being called Curly.”

“I could call you Floppy.”

“Curly is good. I love Curly.”

She cradled the phone to her ear, smiling so broadly her cheeks hurt. She didn’t know how he did it, but he always managed to make her feel better.

“What have you been up to today, Curly?”

“Nothing exciting. Client meetings. We’re helping one of our top clients with a big merger, so it was all quite technical stuff. I kept drifting into thoughts of you.”

“That’s naughty.”

“I am naughty.”

“I know you are.”

Marcus sighed softly in her ear. “How was your day?”

“Work was great. We wrapped on a couple of the actors which was sad, but we had a celebration afterwards.”

“You’re in the final stretch.”

“Yeah, just five weeks of shooting left.”

“It’s gone so fast.”

“I know!”

“Then you have some postproduction to do?”

“Yes. Roan has got us a studio at the BBC in White City, which is close to the set, so I’ll be working there from October.”

Marcus was quiet on the other end of the line and Abby didn’t know what to say next either. The spectre of the end hung over a lot of their conversations these days.

“I miss you,” he said finally.

“I know.”

“Any change in the stalking?”

“No, they’re still hanging around.”

“Arseholes. They’re not bothering me. I wish they would instead of you.”

“I think that Daily Mail writer is a woman-hater. I dread to think what he’s going to come up with next.”

“I’ll look into him.”

“There’s no need for that, Marcus.”

“There is, and it’s no trouble. We have investigators on staff. It will be discreet, I promise. I just want to shake his tree, see what falls out.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“So, what are you wearing?” he said, and Abby smiled.

\---

The report from Kane International’s investigators made for unpleasant reading. Marcus turned the pages gingerly as though they were as filthy as the content. The guy from the Daily Mail, William Shaw, had a track record of writing derogatory articles about female celebrities, calling them out for being too fat, too thin, ugly, old, talentless. He seemed to think that most women were power mad, man-hating social climbers who spread their legs for anyone who could help them up the ladder of fame. He’d written a small piece about Abby a few years before accusing her of using Spencer to springboard her own career.

His private life was as disgusting as his writing. He’d had two failed marriages with both women accusing him of domestic violence. The allegations had gone away, god knows why. Maybe he’d threatened someone with an unflattering newspaper article. People like him wielded extraordinary power and he certainly liked to use his for his own personal pleasure.

Marcus too had a lot of power, more than this fuckwit of a man. He was going to end him one way or another. He was about to ring Abby to tell her what he’d found when his phone rang and he saw it was her.

“I was just thinking about you,” he said.

“Have you seen the latest?” she said, sounding teary.

“No, what?”

“It’s just come out, another article.”

“Hang on, let me find it.”

Marcus went to the entertainment section of the Daily Mail website and there was another article about Abby. It was an unflattering portrait of her and the methods she used to entice men to invest in her films. There was an extensive quote from the man Marcus had met briefly at Abby’s fundraiser, Thelonious Jaha, accusing her of leading him on to get his money and then dumping him when someone richer came along, i.e. Marcus.

“What the fuck?” Marcus exclaimed in annoyance.

“I never wanted his money, Marcus,” she said.

“I know that! What the hell is he doing slagging you off like this?”

“I guess he’s pissed because I didn’t let him invest when he wanted to and then I go and announce my partnership with you.”

“So? That’s business. You don’t go whining to the press when a deal goes south. Jesus Christ.”

“Listen to this. ‘It was clear the minute Abby set eyes on Marcus Kane at the fundraiser that she wanted him... as a business partner.’ Those three dots, Marcus. You know what they’re implying.”

“Yes, I know what they’re implying. I’m going to fucking kill that Jaha guy! Both of them!”

“I’m tired of this, Marcus,” she said in a resigned voice, and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want them to end like this. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m going to deal with it. That writer is a nasty piece of work and he has a lot of skeletons in his closet. I’ll get rid of him.”

“I know. I’m not giving in; I just feel like I need a break from it all. It’s constant and relentless.”

“Take a couple of days off, come to Dorset with me. We’ll have a long weekend there.”

“To your family home? They’ll see us, Marcus.”

“They won’t. No one has bothered my parents, like they’re not bothering me. It’s miles from anywhere, totally private. There’s barely a phone signal.”

“Won’t your parents mind? What will they think?”

“They’ll be fine, and Georgie would love to see you.” Marcus didn’t tell her what his parents thought about her, her profession, and her relationship with him. They were snobs, that’s all. They’d get over it when they met her.

“It does sound nice,” she said with a soft sigh.

“It is nice. Imagine a few days in the British countryside. We have a private beach, you can swim.”

“You can show me how to hunt fossils.”

“I will! It will be fun. We deserve some fun, don’t we?”

“We do. Okay, let’s do it!” she said sounding cheerier.

“Fantastic. How soon can you get away?”

“Thursday, I guess.”

“There’s a large shopping centre not far from your flat called Westfield. Meet me in the underground car park there at ten on Thursday.”

“Thanks, Marcus. I really appreciate what you do for me.”

“My motives are purely selfish. I want to be with you, that’s all. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Okay, Thursday then. I’m excited about it!”

“So am I. I’ll see you then.”

He ended the call and sat back, swivelling in his office chair. He wasn’t going to tell his parents in advance and give them time to object. They wouldn’t be happy at first or maybe not at all, but that didn’t matter. They’d be polite, because that was the English way. Abby would never know how they felt, and a break would do them both good, give them a chance to recharge and plot their fightback. He found himself looking forward to going home for the first time in forever.

\---

The journey to Dorset was an adventure in itself for Abby and she enjoyed every second of it. Marcus was in no rush, so he drove over beautiful rolling hills called the South Downs, through an ancient town called Winchester with a cathedral and another one called Salisbury which also had a cathedral this one with a large spire. He claimed to be taking her somewhere special but wouldn’t be drawn on where it was. Abby watched everything go by with an eager anticipation.

They ended up on a long road that was heavy with slow-moving traffic, which was unusual because most of the other roads had been relatively quiet.

“Why is it so busy here?” she asked Marcus.

“Keep your eyes on the right-hand side of the road,” was his only reply.

She watched avidly but there was nothing to see except a lot of green grass and a fence. Then she spotted something at the top of a rise. A small green hump like the ones they’d seen at Sutton Hoo and behind that something else paler and broken-up. As they got closer to the object the traffic slowed almost to a crawl. There were people around it, hundreds of them. The object became better defined. It was a whole bunch of standing stones.

“Oh, my God, is that... what’s that thing called with the stones?”

“Stonehenge.”

“Yes, oh, wow!”

She saw Marcus grin as he glanced towards the monument. “Five thousand years old,” he said.

“I can’t believe it. It’s just right there!”

“Would you like to take a closer look?”

“Definitely.”

“Good, because I’ve booked us a couple of tickets.” He smiled at her as he indicated to turn at a roundabout.

A shuttlebus took them from the visitor centre to the stones and they followed a short path to them. A fence prevented people from getting too near, but Abby didn’t care about that. The stones were huge up close. Magnificent. She felt tears welling for some reason. There was an atmosphere surrounding the stones and it got inside her, made her feel connected somehow to the landscape and the past. This wasn’t even her country but something as important and powerful as this belonged to everyone. It was part of a shared human history.

“They’re absolutely incredible,” whispered Marcus.

“Have you seen them before?” whispered Abby in reply. There was no need to talk so quietly, it just seemed appropriate, like they were in the presence of something magical or holy.

“No, this is my first time.”

“Oh, wow, that’s so nice that I get to share this with you.”

He put his arm around her shoulder, and she put hers around his waist, leaning into him. They were both wearing baseball caps and sunglasses. Abby’s shades were so huge they covered half her face. There was no way anyone could recognise them. She took a selfie of them in front of the stones. She laughed when she looked at it.

“We’re like the invisible man without the bandages,” she said.

“We’re super-secret agents following a known fugitive who’s meeting his contact here.”

“If we catch them we’ll foil a plot to destroy all Britain’s great monuments.”

“We’ll be national heroes. They’ll add two new stones in our honour, ones that look like us.”

“What with baseball caps and sunglasses?”

“Yes.” He laughed, then cupped her face and kissed her. “You’re very special do you know that?”

“Stop it,” she said, her heart thumping.

“I mean it.” He pulled her tighter to him and they kissed in front of the ancient stones, oblivious for that moment to everyone else around them.

Back in the car and they drove alongside a patchwork quilt of yellow and green fields, through villages where some of the houses had amazing roofs made of thatch. They found a bakery in one of the villages, ate cheese with a hard thing that was half cookie, half bread roll called a Dorset Knob, which Marcus said was named after a doorknob and not a man’s penis. The reference to the male anatomy Abby didn’t understand, but it made him laugh so she laughed along with him.

“We’re nearly there,” he said as they climbed up a winding hill with hairpin bends that made Abby’s heart sink into her stomach. They went down the other side and ended up on a narrow road that only had one lane and every time a car came in the opposite direction Marcus had to come to a shuddering halt and ease the Jaguar onto the grass verge at the side of the road.

“I’d never be able to drive along here,” said Abby, holding onto the door handle for dear life.

“You get used to it.”

They came to a gate with a sign that said private attached to it and Marcus got out and opened it, driving through and then getting out again to close it. Other than the road being private it was the same as the one they’d been on previously and it was another five minutes before a house came into view and what a house! Abby had thought Roan’s house had been amazing, but this was something else. It wasn’t as big and in your face as Roan’s place, but it was clearly older and more elegant.

It was made of a grey stone with a grey slate roof and had three storeys. There were two rounded bays either side of a central section that had three windows and a white door with a lintel supported by two columns. Marcus parked on the gravel drive in front of the door alongside two huge cars that were almost as big as Abby’s flat in London. Marcus’s tiny Jaguar looked like a toy in comparison.

“Stay there,” he said when she went to open her door.

He got out, went around to the passenger side and opened the door for her.

“There’s no need,” she said, although secretly she loved his chivalry.

He smiled and shrugged in reply. “Looks like the whole family’s home,” he said, nodding to the cars.

“Are they expecting us?”

“Erm, no, but it will be fine.”

Abby frowned as she followed him towards the door. Why hadn’t he told his parents they were coming? It was odd, but then he was a grown man and this was his home. He probably didn’t feel he had to tell them what he was doing.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby meets Marcus's parents, gets to know the house and its inhabitants.

The door opened into an entrance hall with a polished wooden floor and a wooden staircase. Huge oil paintings hung on the walls and it was easy to recognise Marcus’s father because Marcus looked just like him. The woman in the other picture was different with red hair and a pale complexion.

As Abby examined the portraits their owners appeared, curious looks on their faces.

“Marcus?” said the woman as Marcus set down his and Abby’s bags and stood up straight.

“Hi, mum,” he said, giving her a kiss on both cheeks. He shook his father’s hand.

“What’s going on, son?” said Mr Kane.

“We’ve come to stay for a few days. This is Abby.”

“Hi,” said Abby, stepping forward nervously. Mr Kane was tall, maybe an inch taller than Marcus, and he was standing with his hands behind his back, a frown on his face.

“Hello,” he said stiffly. “I’m Sir Anthony Kane, Marcus’s father.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Marcus’s father was a Sir? Oh, god! What was she supposed to call him? She had no idea. Marcus hadn’t prepared her for any of this.

“Hello, dear,” said his mother. “I’m Vera.”

His mother was marginally warmer but not by much. She didn’t give Abby a hug or a kiss or anything welcoming.

“Thank you for having me,” said Abby.

“It’s nice to meet you at last. We’ve heard a lot about you from Georgie,” she said, emphasising the last part and giving Marcus a pointed look.

As if on cue footsteps could be heard running towards them and a small figure dressed in shorts and a t-shirt barrelled in.

“Oh, my God!” she yelled. “I can’t believe this! You’re here! In my house!”

“Hi, sweetheart,” said Abby, and she was enveloped in a warm embrace.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Why didn’t you say you were bringing her, Marcus?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It’s certainly that,” said Vera.

“I’m going to show Abby to her room,” said Marcus, picking up their bags.

“The green room is—” said Vera before he interrupted her.

“I know which room I’m putting her in.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Georgie excitedly.

“No. Give us a minute or two will you. We’ve had a long journey. You can spend plenty of time with Abby later.”

She pouted but didn’t argue.

“You can show me around soon, Georgie,” said Abby.

“Okay.”

Marcus led the way up the winding stairs to the second floor of the house. There was a long hallway with numerous doors off it. He stopped outside one, opened the door which creaked.

“I’ll have to get that oiled,” he said.

“Oh, wow, this is amazing!” said Abby as she stepped into the room.

“We call it the red room, I thought it appropriate.” He grinned as he put her bags on the bed.

The room was big and airy with two large windows each with small, square panes of glass. The walls were a pale red and the windows had red and white swags with some pattern Abby couldn’t define. The floor was wooden and covered with a red rug. There was a fireplace with a marble surround and a black hearth. The bed was wooden with a scroll design and was the only thing in the room that didn’t have any red. It had a crisp white covering and a cream cushion.

“This is so beautiful, Marcus. I can’t believe you live here.”

“I’d put you in with me but I figured we’d better keep up appearances.”

“Yes, that’s fine. It will be nice to have my own space anyway. Which is your room?”

“It’s next door.”

He showed her his room which was similar to the one she was in except everything was blue and the walls were lined with bookshelves crammed with books.

Abby went to the window, looked out onto a green lawn bordered by trees and flowery shrubs. Through a large gap in the trees the sea shimmered, bluer than the water at Aldeburgh. There were rocks in the distance and a bright orange sand.

“The sea!” she said to Marcus, stating the obvious.

He came up behind her, put his arms around her waist, kissed the side of her neck. “Best thing about this place,” he said.

“It’s amazing. I love it.”

“There’s a bathroom the other side of my room you can use, though you’ll have to share with me. Mum and dad have rooms at the front of the house and Georgie has an attic room upstairs.”

“Your parents didn’t seem too happy to see us,” she said, turning in his arms.

“That was quite welcoming for them.” He kissed her nose. “All you need to know about my parents is I’m rarely in their good books, so any hostility will be for me and not you.”

“Okay,” she said, not entirely convinced but willing to go along with him. “I didn’t know your father was a Sir. What should I call him?”

“Sir Anthony will be fine.”

“Sir Anthony.” Abby practiced the name. Marcus pronounced it as though the H wasn’t there, which wasn’t what she was used to.

“I’m kidding about the Sir part,” he said. “Anthony will do.”

“I don’t think I can call him that. It just seems wrong.”

“He got knighted for sucking up to Government ministers, he’s not a saint. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Now, shush for a moment. I want to make a childhood dream come true.”

“What childhood dream?”

“I always wanted to have a famous actress in my bedroom and to kiss her. Back then it was Michelle Pfeiffer, but you’ll have to do.”

“That’s... I’m speechless!” said Abby in mock outrage.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to speak.”

With that Marcus covered her mouth with his and kissed her long and hard.

“Thank you for bringing me,” murmured Abby when they parted.

“Thank you for coming,” replied Marcus, his arms wrapped tight around her.

\---

When they went downstairs after unpacking, Sir Anthony Kane was standing beside the fireplace in the sitting room, his pipe in his mouth, although he wasn’t smoking it as Vera wouldn’t allow him to inside the house except in his study. He liked to chew on it though, particularly when he was annoyed with his son, so Marcus had an inkling of what to expect before his father spoke.

“I wouldn’t mind a word with you, Marcus. In my study.”

“Of course.” He turned to Georgie who was hovering next to the sofa. “Why don’t you show Abby around, Georgie,” he said.

“Oh, yes I will! Do you want to see my room, Abby?” said Georgie taking Abby by the hand. Marcus watched as Abby was half dragged back up the stairs she’d just come down by the eager girl.

Marcus followed his father into the study and was surprised to see his mother already there. His heart sank. He shut the door behind him. Sir Anthony went over to the window, lifted the sash to let air in then lit his pipe. He spent a few moments sucking on it to get it going.

“Do you have to smoke that in here?” said Vera, wrinkling her nose.

Sir Anthony ignored her. Marcus stood quietly. His father always lit his pipe whenever he was about to admonish his son. It was a ritual. His mother wasn’t usually here, though, so this must be extra bad.

Satisfied that the pipe was well lit, Sir Anthony turned and regarded Marcus. “This Abby,” he said, puffing on the stem. “Your mother has looked into her.”

“What do you mean she’s looked into her?”

“Looked up information about her, well Georgina told us most of it, and your mother used the computer, that Google thing.”

“And?” said Marcus, feeling his temper start to rise.

“And she’s not for you, Marcus,” said Vera. “You told your father she’s not married but she’s been with a man for over ten years. She lives in America. She’s thirty-eight!”

She said this last part as though being thirty-eight was the equivalent of being a serial killer.

“What’s wrong with her age?”

“Nothing, but she’s not likely to give you an heir, is she?” said his father.

“Give you an heir you mean. Continue your empire.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to keep the business in the family.”

“This is a bit rich coming from two people who had a child in their late forties.”

“I wouldn’t wish that on anyone,” mumbled Vera.

“Georgie’s a gift,” said Marcus, struggling to control his anger.

“I know that, but the pregnancy, the birth.” His mother shivered at the memory.

“It’s clear to us Abby is a career woman. She’s not going to settle down here and have your children,” said his father, giving Marcus a cold stare that seemed to brook no argument. Marcus wasn’t going to go away quietly.

“I can’t believe this! First of all, you don’t know her at all and you’re making some huge assumptions about her and what she wants. Secondly, you’re making assumptions about what I want. Thirdly, you’ve told me how many times to find a decent girl and settle down? I find someone and without even getting to know her you’re dismissing her out of hand.”

“I thought she was just a friend,” said his mother smugly.

“She is. She’s... she’s my friend and she’s going through a rough time and the last thing she needs is more hostility. We’ve come here to have a break because I promised her this is a safe place. Please don’t make her feel unwelcome.”

“What are you going to do when she’s finished playing with you and goes back to her boyfriend and her life in America?” said Vera.

“She’s not playing with me, and she’s not with that man anymore.”

“So, she’s staying here with you when she’s finished making this film, is she? Only Georgie told us that she told her that she’s only here for a short while and not to get too sad about it when she goes home.”

This was news to Marcus, and it hit him like a blow to his stomach, even though it was hardly unexpected. That was twice now Abby had talked about going home. Clearly, she had no intention of staying.

“Your mother is concerned about this woman and her influence on you, son, that’s all,” said his father, sucking anxiously on his pipe, probably because he’d had to express something that resembled an emotion, even if it was on behalf of his wife.

“I appreciate your concern,” said Marcus through gritted teeth. There were a lot of things he wanted to say to them but now wasn’t the time. He hoped to if not get them onside, then at least keep relations cordial. Shouting like he usually did when confronted by his father wouldn’t help with that. “But it’s my life, and my mistakes are mine to make and my pain is mine to endure, should there be any.”

“We just want what’s best for you, Marcus,” said his mother.

“What’s best for me now is for you to treat Abby as a valued guest and if it’s not too much trouble to try and get to know her just a little. I want her to feel welcome and happy and secure while she’s here.”

“Your mother is always a gracious host,” said his father.

Marcus bit back the comment that was on the tip of his tongue. “Thank you,” he said.

He left them in the study, went to the snug and poured himself a small whisky out of the decanter which he knocked back in one go. It had the desired effect of dampening the fire that was raging in his veins. He was pouring another when he heard shouts of laughter from outside and went to investigate. It was Abby and Georgie on the back lawn. He stood in the open doorway, leaning against the jamb, and watched while Georgie did cartwheels around Abby who was laughing and clapping.

The annoying thing about the conversation with his parents was that they were right. Not about Abby’s age or the ridiculous business over an heir for the family which he’d been pressured about most of his adult life, but about her, about the fact that she was leaving and it was going to be painful. He’d found the perfect woman for him and she wasn’t his, never had been, never would be. She’d told Georgie not to be sad when she left. Would it be that easy for her? Would she be able to board the plane and turn off her sadness and land in America and get on with everything as though nothing had happened? Would he, Marcus, be a fond memory, a brief scene in the biopic of her life?

It was unfair to judge her for that because they’d agreed the rules of their relationship right at the start. He was the one who’d said he didn’t care about the boyfriend, didn’t want anything more, that it would be casual and discreet. Now here he was three months in, and he was absolutely, crazily, ridiculously in love with her. As head over heels as Georgie as she cartwheeled. It was an entirely new feeling, something he had no experience with, and it left him exhilarated and breathless as though he was on the world’s scariest rollercoaster and his heart was permanently in his mouth. Maybe the uncertainty, the potential for pain, was part of the pleasure.

It wasn’t Abby’s fault she’d stuck to their agreement and he hadn’t, and yet... He watched as she chased Georgie, catching her and tickling her. She looked so happy, a broad smile on her face. She put her arms around Georgie, kissed her head. When she’d first walked into the bar she’d wanted to escape, to lose herself in some hot and meaningless sex, to feel good, sexy, wanted. It had changed, though, hadn’t it? Even for her. He only had to look at her to see it. They had something more than sex, more than a physical attraction. The only question was whether he was going to do anything about it.

Abby looked up, saw him standing in the doorway.

“Marcus!” she said, waving to him. “Come and join us!”

He put down his empty whisky glass, went outside.

“I hope you’ve not been letting this one bully you,” he said, picking Georgie up and holding her upside down. She was so tall now, her braid scraped along the grass, making him feel old and nostalgic for the days he could throw her into the air and catch her.

She screamed, battered his thighs with her fists. “Marcus! Put me down!”

He shook her a couple of times then set her on the ground. She pummelled him and he took it, figuring he deserved a battering.

“Did you get a tour of the house?” he said to Abby when Georgie had finally run out of energy.

“Yes, oh, it’s just so wonderful, Marcus. I can’t believe it. It’s like really elegant and old and yet it feels comfortable.”

“It’s definitely a lived-in house, I’ll say that for mum and dad. They never made us feel like we had to be careful of anything. Most of the furniture is ancient anyway.”

“I know, but just look at it!”

She gestured to the rear of the house which was much nicer than the front Marcus had always thought. It was warmer, the stone a more honeyed colour. Ivy and honeysuckle grew up most of the walls, almost obscuring some of the windows. This was his second favourite place to be after the beach, lazing on the patchy camomile lawn on a warm day, looking out over the bay to the Isle of Portland in the distance.

“Just treat it like your own while you’re here,” said Marcus, and he put his arm around her, kissed her cheek without thinking. She leaned into him as she gazed at the house.

On the other side of him he felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down. Georgie was looking up at him her eyes wide, a big smile on her face. Marcus put his finger to his lips, winked at her. She nodded, grinning. He put his other arm around her, pulled her towards him. For once she didn’t resist, and he stood there with his arms around the two women in his life and felt happy despite everything. What will be, will be, he thought.

\---

Abby had thought Marcus’s parents were cold and unwelcoming at first, but after spending an evening in their company she figured it was just part of how they were. They had a kind of stiff formality about certain things such as when they had to sit down to dinner (six o’clock), where all the tableware had to be placed (a configuration Abby couldn’t fathom), and that no one was allowed to leave the table until Sir Anthony had risen. On other things they seemed incredibly relaxed. Georgie ran and cartwheeled and leapt about all over the house without any comment and they had two dogs, Barley and Vincent, who were allowed everywhere - on the furniture, in the kitchen, even on the beds as Abby discovered when she went to her room to fetch a book and found Vincent stretched out on the cover with his head on her pillow.

“Erm, hi!” she said. He looked at her with his soulful brown eyes in response. “You wanna, erm, get off the bed maybe?” She nudged him but he was eighty pounds of black Labrador and wasn’t about to move.

“Never leave your door open.”

She turned to see Marcus standing in the doorway, grinning.

“He won’t move.”

“He’s a lazy bugger.” He went up to Vincent, pushed him from behind. “Come on, off!” he commanded, and the dog eased itself onto the floor.

“I didn’t know you had dogs,” said Abby as she picked up her book from the bedside table.

“We’ve always had them. Labs mainly, couple of sheepdogs back when dad fancied himself as a gentleman farmer.”

“I’ve never had a pet.”

“Really? Well, don’t let them bully you, and keep your door closed otherwise he’ll be back. He likes this room because it catches the sun.”

Marcus straightened the bedcover. “I’ll get you a new pillowcase.” He went over to a cupboard at the back of the room.

“There’s no need. It’s fine.”

“No, you don’t want his slobber all over where you’re sleeping.”

“Am I not sleeping with you then?” she said, putting her arms around him from behind as he changed the pillowcase.

“I hope you will,” he said, turning and linking his arms around her. “But it will be like when Georgie was staying. You’ll have to sneak in and out.”

“I like that idea.”

“Mmm,” replied Marcus, kissing her lips softly.

“Will we have to be quiet again?”

“Very.”

\---

Later that night Abby went to bed before Marcus, leaving him in the sitting room with his parents while she showered in their shared bathroom and dressed in the new, sexier nightwear she’d bought for the occasion. It was a red silk chemise with a V-neck that emphasised her breasts and tiny red shorts that made her legs look even longer than they were. She knew she looked hot in it, was already anticipating his reaction. She slipped on a pair of red high heels and smiled.

She sat in a huge red armchair by the window and read her book, listening for signs of the others coming to bed. She heard his parents first, the booming voice of his father shouting at one of the dogs. Ten minutes later she heard the creak of floorboards in the room next to hers. She waited another ten minutes to make sure everyone was settled then went to her door and opened it. It creaked loudly. Shit! Marcus had said he would oil it and they’d both forgotten. She stood in the doorway, waiting to see if anyone had heard. There was no movement, so she moved quickly to his door, opened it gingerly in case it too had a creak. It didn’t, and she entered his room, shut the door behind her then leaned against it.

“Hi,” she said seductively.

“Oh, jeez!” said Marcus, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked her up and down.

“You like?” Abby twirled to show off the outfit then headed towards the bed.

“I like very much.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulled her towards him so she was straddling him. “God,” he said, his hands caressing the silk covering her ass.

Abby linked her arms around his neck and clung to him while she rolled her hips slowly, rubbing against the bulge in his black boxers. Marcus buried his face between her breasts with a groan.

“Don’t forget to be quiet,” she whispered.

“It’s hard,” he mumbled. “You’re off the charts sexy.”

He manoeuvred them onto the bed, turned so he was on top of her. He ran his hands over the silk of her top, his thumbs rubbing the material over her nipples. It felt amazing, made her sex throb. He pulled her top up, kissed her stomach, made his way back to her breasts, licking and sucking her nipples until she was squirming beneath him.

“Go lower. Please,” she begged.

He took his time getting to where she wanted him because he liked to tease her. He started at her feet, fingering the straps of her shoes, running his thumbs over the sharp points of the heels.

“These are killer,” he said, stroking the bare parts of her feet, working his way up her calves to her thighs, making her tremble with anticipation. He reached her sex and caressed her through the material, following up his touch with kisses. He used his tongue to move the silk up and down her slit. The friction was wonderful, made her groan with pleasure.

“Shush,” he said, pushing down his boxers and taking them off. He replaced his tongue with his cock, rubbing that against the silk, groaning softly himself. “I like that. It feels amazing.”

Abby kept hoping with every stroke that he would slip inside her because she was desperate for him now, but he was enjoying what he was doing too much and showed no signs of stopping.

“You’ve got to fuck me,” she said when she could take it no longer. “Come on.” She grabbed his ass cheeks, tried to angle him towards where she wanted him.

“I will if you keep these on.”

“You can wear them yourself if you want, I don’t care, I just need you inside me,” she said, a little too loudly.

“Inside voice, Abby,” he said and while she was laughing quietly he pulled the shorts to one side and thrust inside her, making her laugh turn into a groan that was definitely not made with her inside voice.

He fucked her slowly and she gripped his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his back and pressed her heels into the hollow above his ass like she’d said she would in their phone fantasy.

He faltered in his stroke, let out a strangled moan and she thought for a moment he was going to come just from that action but he collected himself, regained his rhythm. Abby rocked with him, squeezing him on every stroke, intensifying the orgasm that quickly overwhelmed her. Marcus buried his face in her neck to muffle his moans as he came.

“Dear God,” he said as they lay on their backs afterwards, hearts thumping. “When I think you couldn’t be any hotter you turn up looking like that.”

“I knew you’d like it the minute I saw it.”

“You’re stunning,” he said, turning to face her. He ran his hand over the chemise and down to the shorts. “We’ve probably ruined these.”

“Probably,” said Abby, wriggling out of them because they were wet and sticky and uncomfortable. “It was worth it.”

“It was.” Marcus shuffled closer, laid his head on her chest. Abby stroked his hair, pressed a kiss to it.

“I’m so grateful I met you,” she said.

“Best birthday present ever,” mumbled Marcus sleepily.

“What do you mean?”

“It was my birthday the day I met you.”

“You’ve never said!”

“It was my fortieth. I wasn’t feeling too good about it.”

“Oh gosh.” Abby stroked his hair some more, surprised by his confession. She’d sensed he’d needed what they did that night as much as she had, but he’d never said anything about it until now. “Well, happy birthday for back then,” she said, kissing his head again.

Marcus huffed a soft laugh, draped his arm across her stomach. “Thank you,” he whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

After two days in the Kane home Abby was becoming used to the odd mix of strict rules and chaos that accompanied everything the family did. Breakfast took place in the kitchen, and they were all squashed around a well-used wooden table that had a scratched surface and legs with chew marks at dog height. The dogs responsible for the marks were sat on the orange tiled floor beneath the table hoovering up any scraps of food that fell – accidentally in the case of Sir Anthony who brushed the crumbs from his jumper without care about where they landed – and purposefully in the case of Georgie who slipped her hand beneath the table feeding the dogs at least half of her food.

There was a cook, a satisfyingly plump woman with short, dark, curly hair by the name of Mrs Prentice. She’d clearly been with the family some time because she was able to anticipate each person’s needs, responding to requests for more of something before they’d raised their head to look at her. She didn’t know what to make of Abby, examined her on the first morning as though she was from another planet, not another country.

“We don’t have doughnuts or whatsits like that,” she’d said in a thick accent Abby could barely understand.

“I’m happy to eat whatever you have,” she’d replied.

She’d also been declared too thin, a comment that had drawn a nodded approval from both Marcus’s parents. This was why she was currently sat in front of a plate piled with eggs and bacon and hash browns.

“Georgie, will you sit still for five minutes!” Vera Kane gave her daughter an exasperated look.

Georgie resumed her seat opposite Abby, smiled broadly at her. “I’m just excited about today.”

“So am I,” said Abby. They were heading down to the beach after breakfast to look for fossils and Georgie had been bursting with anticipation since Marcus had suggested it at dinner the night before.

“I know the perfect spot, Abby. I guarantee we’ll find something there.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Marcus wanted to be a geologist when he was Georgie’s age,” said Vera.

“Yes, he’s mentioned that,” said Abby.

“Has he?” Vera looked surprised. Either she didn’t think Abby was interested in Marcus to that degree or Marcus hadn’t told his many girlfriends over the years details like that. She wasn’t supposed to be his girlfriend, though; she kept forgetting that.

“I soon put an end to that pipe dream. There’s no money in messing around with rocks,” said Sir Anthony, poking his long nose over the top of his newspaper.

“I’m going to be a famous fossil hunter like Mary Anning!” declared Georgie looking defiantly at her father.

“You do that, Georgie,” said Marcus. “I’ll build you a science centre. We’ll call it the Sir Anthony Kane Home for Old Fossils. That should please dad.”

Sir Anthony scowled at Marcus, tutted his disapproval then lifted his paper in front of his face. Abby caught Georgie and Vera exchanging secret smiles. She looked at Marcus. He had something that was half smirk, half scowl on his own face. She put her hand on his thigh beneath the table and he turned, looked at her.

“Awesome!” she mouthed, and he smiled.

Mrs Prentice came around with more tea, and Abby put her hand over the top of her cup because if she drank more she’d be swimming in it.

She felt something feathery against her bare leg, looked down to see Vincent’s tail wagging, his eyes raised towards her expectantly. She glanced around the table. Sir Anthony had his nose buried in the paper. Marcus was discussing packed lunch ideas with Mrs Prentice. Vera was telling Georgie not to eat her food so fast. Abby broke off a large chunk of a hash brown, passed it to Vincent beneath the table. It was gone in a microsecond. She was his for life now, and he remained there while she fed him as much of her enormous breakfast as she dared.

“I saw what you were doing,” said Marcus later when they were in her bedroom.

“What do you mean?”

“Feeding Vincent. You’ll never get rid of him now.”

“That’s okay. He’s sweet. Besides, I had no choice. Mrs Prentice is trying to feed me up. She says I’m too thin.”

“She says that to me. I think she’d be happy if we were all too enormous to move and then she could just keep feeding us all day long. It’s how she loves us.”

“By killing you, yes.”

Marcus smiled. He put his arms around her from behind, stroked her belly. “I’d think you were perfect even if you were shaped like a hash brown,” he said, making Abby laugh.

“I will be by the time this weekend is over.” She went to the closet, looked inside. “What shall I wear for this fossil hunt?”

“I would say nothing, but Georgie’s with us, so I guess shorts and t-shirt. It’s going to be warm enough. Put your costume on beneath because we’ll probably go swimming.”

Abby changed while Marcus watched and it was hard to leave the room afterwards because she liked it when he looked at her, it turned her on. Marcus sighed deeply, clearly having the same thoughts.

“We should have just gone to a hotel and fucked all day and night,” he said.

“Anticipation, remember.” She kissed his nose as she passed him.

Downstairs, Georgie was hovering near the back door, dressed like Abby and Marcus in shorts and t-shirt. Her t-shirt was bright yellow with a bee design. She looked so cute Abby couldn’t resist kissing her dark head.

“I’ve got everything we need!” Georgie said patting the brown leather satchel that was slung over her shoulder.

“That used to be mine,” said Marcus as Mrs Prentice came towards them and handed him a cool bag.

“That’ll do ye, me 'ansum,” she said.

“Thanks,” said Marcus, giving her a kiss on her cheek.

“Did she call you handsome?” said Abby as they walked across the lawn towards the gap in the shrubbery.

“Not how you mean. It’s a friendly term I suppose,” replied Marcus.

“She does love you, though,” said Georgie, skipping backwards so she could look at them. “She’s always asking when is Marcus coming to visit.”

“It’s the effect I have on everyone,” said Marcus.

“Not me!” said Georgie.

“I should think not, you’re my sister.”

“Ugh, gross, I don’t mean like that!”

“I think you can’t resist me either,” said Marcus, and he moved towards her his hands in the air menacingly.

Georgie screamed, and ran through the gap, disappearing from view with Marcus following her, tormenting her. Abby followed slowly behind, enjoying the sun and the greenery and the sounds of the two of them laughing and screaming. Georgie reminded her of herself in many ways. She was full of life, liked to be the centre of attention which Abby had been when she was young. If she’d had a child, she figured she would have been like Georgie. She felt something that bordered on the maternal when she looked at the girl, a tug on her heartstrings. There were a lot of things here that would be hard to leave behind.

She went through the gap and found herself on a clifftop. A grassy path wound down to the beach and standing at the bottom were Marcus and Georgie. Georgie waved enthusiastically.

“Come on Abby!” she cried.

The beach was soft sand giving way to pebbles which scraped and skittered beneath her feet. Above them the cliffs towered, muddy brown and layered, broken in places.

“Are they safe?” said Abby as they passed beneath a suspicious overhang.

“Safe enough,” said Marcus, which wasn’t exactly reassuring.

He and Georgie didn’t seem worried and they’d presumably been out here a lot over the years, so Abby eventually relaxed. It was a beautiful place otherwise, the sea a blue-green that reminded her of the Caribbean, breaking gently over the pebbles.

“This is usually a good spot,” said Georgie, setting her satchel on a pile of rocks. “Best thing to do is get your eye in.”

“What does that mean?” said Abby.

“It means you have to get used to what you’re looking for. I’ll show you.” She took Abby’s hand and they walked up and down the beach, heads bent. “You’re looking for clusters of pebbles or ones that have lines or patterns on them. I find it best to kind of clear my mind and just let my eyes see.”

“Okay.” Abby looked around, saw Marcus watching them, his arms folded, an amused look on his face.

“Near the water is good cause the sea washes them clean and you can see the patterns better. Here’s one.”

Abby couldn’t see anything obvious, but Georgie bent and picked up a small cone-shaped pebble.

“This is a belemnite. A squid kind of animal would have lived in it. There’s thousands of them here.”

She gave it to Abby who examined it. She looked around at the pebbly beach. This was literally like looking for a needle in a haystack. How were you supposed to see something this small amongst all of that?

“I don’t know that I have the eye for this, Georgie,” she said.

“You will. I didn’t either at first but Marcus showed me and I got it in the end. You’ll be fine.” She smiled up at Abby warmly.

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“I can see something from here,” said Georgie. “Look at that patch there, say like an area the size of tent or something, and just look. Don’t think. See if anything jumps out at you.”

Abby stared at the spot she indicated. Nothing looked odd at first, and then she realised there was something slightly different, a geometric pattern on one of the stones.

“One of these things is not like the others!” she said, going up to the rock she’d spotted and picking it up.

“You got it!” Georgie took the stone from Abby, took it to the water’s edge and washed it. “Look at that, your first ammonite.”

Abby ran her fingers of the ridges on the small grey pebble. “Amazing!”

After that it did get easier, and she found another belemnite and a rock with a few small starshaped things Georgie said were called crinoids. Abby couldn’t remember learning any of this in geology at school, but Georgie seemed to know everything. They took their bounty back to Marcus, showed him.

“Not bad,” he said. “I think maybe you’re ready for a competition. Do you think she’s ready, Georgie?”

“I do!”

“What’s the competition?”

“You have ten minutes to find as many as you can. You can’t go past that rock or that one,” he said, pointing to two rocks in opposite directions. “We’ll meet here with our finds.”

“I’m never going to win that! You two are experts.”

“That’s not the attitude, Abby,” said Georgie, sounding so much like Marcus it made Abby laugh out loud.

“No, you’re right. Okay, I’m up for this. Let’s do it!”

They split up, Georgie running around like she was on fire, Marcus more circumspect and methodical. Abby tried to concentrate, take her time. She found a rock with a whole bunch of ammonites on it, a half dozen belemnites and something that she couldn’t identify. She was pleased with her haul until she met up with the others and spilled them onto the rocks. Marcus and Georgie had at least three times as many each.

“It’s not bad for a first time,” said Marcus, smirking.

“Next time we do something we’ll see how many lines of script you can remember after ten minutes of memorising.”

“I’m sure you would win that hands down.”

“I think you did great, Abby,” said Georgie, looking Abby’s finds over. “Oh, this is really cool, look at this, Marcus.”

She showed him the one Abby couldn’t identify. It was an odd shaped thing similar to a walnut, a beige/white colour like old bone. It had little dots in it like pinpricks.

“Oh, yes, that’s quite a find!” He took a small lens out of the satchel, examined the fossil with it.

“What is it?” said Abby, excitement creeping into her veins. Had she found a rare dinosaur bone or something? How cool would that be?

“It’s a fossilised sea urchin. You can see the holes where the spines were.”

“Oh,” said Abby, feeling vaguely disappointed.

“No, it’s a good find. They’re common but really hard to spot. You did well.”

“Cool, thanks!” Abby took the fossil, traced its rough edges and indentations.

“I got something I thought you might want to see.” He pulled out of his shorts pocket a non-descript large grey pebble.

“What’s that?”

“You have to open it to see. Get the hammer, Georgie.”

Georgie passed Marcus a small hammer with a sharp point and he set the pebble on the rock, edge up. “Hit it here,” he said, indicating.

“You want me to do it?”

“Yes. I’ve done this loads of times.”

“Okay.” Abby hit it a few times under Marcus’s guidance and eventually the rock split apart. Inside was the perfect shape of a coiled ammonite shell, large and bumpy. “Oh, my god!”

“Isn’t it amazing? We can probably prize it all out.”

He got a chisel and hammered carefully at various parts of the stone until the fossil was revealed in full 3D glory.

“That’s so beautiful,” said Abby.

“It’s yours. You can keep it as a memento of here.” He handed it to her, and Abby felt a lump rise in her throat, tears to her eyes. A memento was a memory, and that’s all this day and her time with Marcus would be soon. She looked down and examined the fossil closely so Georgie and Marcus wouldn’t see her face.

“Thanks,” she croaked.

They had lunch later, sitting on the rocks. Ham sandwiches with mustard, salad with peppers and tomatoes. There was a cherry scone each for afterwards with jam and cream.

“Gawd,” groaned Abby, lying back along the flat rock, her hands on her belly. “I can’t move.”

Marcus leaned over her, his hand on top of hers. “Just relax,” he said. “That’s what we’re here for.” He kissed her softly, then sat up, watching Georgie as she paddled in the shallow waves.

Abby closed her eyes, drifted to sleep.

\---

Marcus sat alone in the snug after dinner relishing a few minutes to himself. He was nursing one of his father’s expensive whiskeys, a twenty-five-year-old Bunnahabhain that tasted of autumn – berries and nuts and spiced oak. He inhaled the aromas before taking a sip. It slipped down like silk, and he breathed out happily. Abby was with Georgie fixing the hair and makeup on a doll or something equally as girly and he was glad of the opportunity to relax. He was enjoying their time here, even the family moments, but he wasn’t used to other people as a constant presence and Georgie’s boisterousness overwhelmed him at times. Abby was probably equally in need of some time alone but Georgie had latched on to her and would be impossible to shake off. He hoped she would go to bed soon because he had plans for him and Abby later, and they definitely didn’t involve his sister.

“Evening, Marcus.”

Marcus looked up to see his mother hovering in the doorway. She had her ‘I want to talk to you’ face on and his heart sank. So much for some time alone.

“Evening, mother.”

“How are you?” she said, easing herself into the leather armchair the other side of the fire from his.

“The same as I was ten minutes ago when you last saw me.”

“There’s no need to be facetious, Marcus.”

“Sorry.”

“Can I have one of those?” she said, nodding at his whisky.

Marcus got up and went over to the decanter, poured her a small glass. “You’d better not let dad see you drinking that,” he said, handing it to her before settling back into his chair.

“I can handle your father.”

“I’ve no doubt, but you know what he’s like when it comes to his whisky.”

“It hasn’t stopped you drinking it,” said Vera, taking a sip and grimacing at the bitterness of the drink.

“What’s one more thing for him to be mad at me for?”

“Now, now. You know your father loves you.”

Marcus didn’t reply to that. Were people who loved you constantly disappointed in you? He thought not. If he ever had a child he hoped he’d be supportive of them rather than relentlessly critical.

They sat in silence for a minute, drinking and watching the fire. He knew it wouldn’t be long before his mother brought up whatever it was she wanted to speak to him about, but he was more than happy for the delay.

“Abby’s playing with Georgie,” she said at last.

“Yes.”

“She’s very kind.”

“She is.” He wasn’t sure where his mother was going to go with this conversation. She could be as inscrutable as he sometimes, and she was betraying no hints now.

“What exactly is the nature of your relationship with her?”

“Mother!” he sighed.

“No, Marcus, I don’t mean anything by asking. I want to understand. I want to know what’s in your mind, and your heart.”

That wasn’t a direction he’d anticipated her heading in. To his surprise he found himself responding. “Erm, well it started out as something casual, I suppose.”

“But it’s not casual now?”

“Technically it still is.”

“You mean it is on Abby’s part.”

“I don’t know how she feels.”

“Don’t you think perhaps you should ask her?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Because of her boyfriend?”

Marcus sighed. It wasn’t easy to explain how he felt without telling her the whole story, and so he did, leaving out some of the more salacious details such as what they’d done the first time they’d met. Vera listened without interrupting which was a first. It was a relief to talk about it, made him realise how much he’d kept inside, and how damaging it was starting to become.

“You told me and your father that you’d found the one,” she said when he’d finished.

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“You said it in your father’s study the day you arrived. We wanted you to find a decent girl and settle down and you had. That’s what you said.”

“Right, yes,” he said as the memory of that conversation came back to him. “I didn’t mean—”

“I wasn’t happy about this situation. I’m NOT happy about it. Wait, wait,” she said as Marcus started to open his mouth to object. “I’ve watched you with her these last two days and I can see how you feel. A mother knows these things.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. Like you said she’s going home and that will be that. I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“And you’re not going to say anything? You’re just going to let her go?”

“It’s not fair to her to put her in that situation. She won’t welcome it.”

“Marcus, I love you, but you can be remarkably dense. You’re just like your father. Do you know how we got together?”

“Didn’t you meet at a party or something?” Having to hear about his parents’ love life wasn’t something Marcus was prepared for. He fought back the grimace that threatened to grace his features.

“Yes, we met at a party. We talked for hours, most of the night, and I knew then that we were meant to be together, but if it were up to your father that would have been it.”

“Didn’t he feel the same?” said Marcus intrigued now despite himself.

“Yes, he felt the same, but he had no clue that I did. A woman spending all evening with him, eschewing all others, having eyes only for him, laughing at his stupid jokes, and he didn’t think there was anything to it. I had to do the chasing, and frankly if I hadn’t taken the initiative in a lot of other things in our marriage you wouldn’t be here, and neither would Georgie!”

“For god’s sake, mother! I don’t need to hear that!”

“You’re not the only one who has sex, Marcus. How do you think you got here? By stork?”

“Jesus Christ! I have never thought about it and didn’t think I ever would!”

“I’ve realised something this weekend,” said Vera, determined it seemed to complete his humiliation. “I hoped you would meet someone and settle down and have children, and when you brought Abby I saw that dream disappear.”

“Because of her age.”

“Because of everything. Your father thinks you’re with her purely to wind him up.”

“Yes, cause that’s why I do everything in life,” he replied sarcastically.

“Your father’s stupid as we’ve established. I realised, son, that you’re happy. That she makes you happy, and I haven’t seen that since you were a young boy. I want that for you no matter what the circumstances.”

Emotions welled in Marcus unexpectedly at her words. He took a sip of his whisky to force them back down. “What are you saying exactly?”

“I’m saying that I think you make her happy too, that’s how it looks to me, and if you want her, then you should tell her how you feel.”

Marcus stood, went over to the window, looked out at the darkening sky. “It’s easy to say, but what if that ruins it? What if she ends it now? I still have time with her.”

“It’s ending anyway in a couple of months.”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s only going to get harder, Marcus.”

“It’s already impossible,” he said softly.

“Well then...”

He stared out of the window, seeing a faint reflection of himself in the glass. He felt sick, because he knew his mother was right, and he knew he had to say something if he wanted Abby to stay, but the thought of her rejecting him, of leaving, and him losing everything they could do and be over the next few weeks was overwhelming. He thought Abby did feel the same, but was it fair to her to do this? What did she want?

\---

“Is this really a good idea, Marcus? Won’t the water be freezing?” Abby stood on the sandy part of the beach in her swimming costume with a towel wrapped around her. Marcus was laying his towel on the sand beside her. It was midnight, the moon full and casting a silver glow on the water. A few stars were visible, and across the water man-made lights glowed along the shoreline. The night still held the warmth of the day, but she wasn’t convinced the water did.

“It will be fine, and I’ll warm you up afterwards.” He grinned at her, then took her towel and laid it next to his. He grabbed her hand and they ran to the sea. Marcus pulled her straight in and she gasped with the cold.

“It’s good for you!” he said, and Abby couldn’t reply because her teeth were chattering.

They swam, chasing each other through the water. Marcus was a strong swimmer, spent a lot of time under the water where she couldn’t see him, popping up in front and grabbing her for kisses. Abby warmed up, but she wasn’t sure if it was the exercise or that she’d become inured to the cold of the water.

When Marcus had got his teasing out of his system they floated on their backs, looking up at the stars.

“It’s so beautiful,” said Abby. “You’re lucky to have this.”

“I know. I don’t think I realised it until recently.”

“I guess it will be yours one day.”

“It’s mine now, technically. Dad transferred the deeds to me a couple of years ago, so I own it.”

“Gosh, that’s generous of him,” said Abby, surprised at such a gesture coming from his cold and overbearing father.

“There’s nothing generous about it. He did it to avoid us getting a hefty tax bill when he dies.”

“Oh. So you are lord of the manor then?”

Marcus laughed. “I suppose in a way.”

“Will you be a Sir one day as well?”

“I doubt it. It’s not a hereditary title and I’m unlikely to creep to politicians enough to be nominated.”

She saw him turn his head to look at her, a sly smile on his face. “Why? Do you want to be Lady Abigail?”

“You would be lucky to have me as your lady.”

“I would.” He rolled onto his front, swam closer to her. “Shall I anoint you with my sword as every good knight should?”

“Good sir, I don’t know how I could say no to that!”

They swam to the shore, and Abby stood while Marcus wrapped the towel around her. They kissed in the moonlight, and he dropped the towel, hooked his thumbs under the straps of her costume and pulled it down, kissing her shoulders and then her breasts as they were revealed to him. He peeled the rest of the costume from her, sinking to his knees so he could press his mouth to her sex. She stood with her legs spread, her fingers curled into his hair while he brought her to a shuddering orgasm.

He pulled off his shorts and they lay on the dry towel. Abby rolled on top of him, spent some time just kissing him, caressing his face and his hair. He tasted spicier than usual, smoky. He turned them over again, slipped inside her, smiling at her as he fucked her slowly. He was such a comfortable fit now, perfect really. They didn’t usually do it gently like this and it was good, gave time for the sensations to build.

They swapped positions a few times, ended up on their sides, fucking each other unhurriedly. Marcus was watching her, and she held his gaze, her hand pressed to his cheek. She was kissing him when she came again, accidentally bit his lip.

“Sorry,” she whispered, licking the blood away.

He lay with her in his arms after his own release, stroking her face, smiling. His gaze was more intense than usual; it made her blood even warmer.

“I love you,” he said, and somehow his words weren’t a surprise, even though they made her heart thump painfully inside her chest.

“Marcus...” she said, tears welling because they weren’t supposed to do this, shouldn’t be letting this happen.

“I know it’s not fair to you, but I can’t help it. I’m in love with you, I have been for a while now.”

Abby took a shuddering breath and the tears fell. “We can’t.”

“We already have.” He wiped her tears with his thumb. “I don’t want you to leave.”

God, what a mess! Was it a mess? What did this mean? She didn’t know. He was only saying what she’d known for ages, but she’d been in denial and convinced herself that was the only way to cope. The best way. Now what?

“I don’t expect anything. I know that it’s not the same for you. I—”

She kissed his lips to quiet him. Poor Marcus. She was leaving him alone in this with her silence. “It is the same for me,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” he said, a tender smile forming.

“Yes, I... I love you too, I just... I don’t know what to do about it.”

“We don’t have to do anything right now, this is enough.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his warm neck. It felt good, it felt right. HE was right. If only it were simple. If only she were truly free.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after the night before, and Marcus and Abby's last day in Dorset

The next day Marcus woke late; a thin, grey light was already streaming through the gap in the curtains. He rolled over, saw Abby was blinking awake.

“Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning.”

They leaned towards each other and kissed. “You’re even sexier this morning,” he said, running his hand over her bare skin, fingers skirting the curve of her breast, her ribs, across to her flat stomach, circling her belly button.

“It’s because I said I love you,” she said, grabbing hold of his cock, which twitched at her words. “See!”

He was pleased to hear her say it, was half wondering if she regretted their conversation earlier, had got carried away by the moonlight and hormones.

“My cock knows,” he said, making her laugh. He flipped her onto her back, straddled her, bent his head to kiss her in all his favourite places. She still tasted salty from the sea, and there was sand in various crevices, even though they’d lain on the towel. It was on his tongue, gritty between his teeth.

“I love all of you,” he said, proving it by caressing every part of her body until she was arching off the bed from the pleasure of his touch.

They fucked in the shower, washing the sand from each other. Afterwards they dressed in their separate bedrooms, went down to breakfast holding hands. It was a relief to have said the words, the only time he ever had, and to have had them said to him, another first. Marcus felt weightless, buoyant, Abby’s hand the only thing tethering him to the earth.

“Morning!” he said cheerily, causing everyone at the breakfast table to pause mid-chew and stare at him.

He held Abby’s chair for her, pushed her towards the table, before sitting down himself.

“I’m starving! I could eat a scabby horse!” he declared.

“What’s got into you?” said Georgie, a look of something between horror and amusement on her face.

“Nothing. It’s a beautiful day that’s all.”

“It’s raining,” she said.

“So?” Marcus poured Abby some tea, smiled at her. She smiled back.

“So, you’re usually miserable in the morning, especially if it’s raining.”

“Can’t I be happy for once?” he said, pulling a face.

“No, it’s freaky!”

Marcus stuck his tongue out at her and she returned the gesture.

“Children!” said Vera, as though Marcus was thirteen like Georgie.

Mrs Prentice set their breakfast before them. Pancakes today with golden syrup. He felt Abby’s hand on his thigh, squeezing him. He put his hand on top of hers and neither of them removed it so they both had to eat their food one-handed.

Rain on their last day meant no going outside. Marcus had planned a walk along the coast to the old lighthouse but there was no chance of that. He wanted to spend all these last hours alone with Abby because they were going back to the situation they’d left, which was the press hounding her and not being able to be seen together. All they’d done by escaping to Dorset was press pause on everything. He didn’t even know if there’d been any other stories because they’d agreed to switch off their phones and not look at a computer. However, they were in a house with three other people including an eager teenage girl and time alone was difficult.

That was how they ended up spending the morning playing charades in the sitting room with Georgie and Vera. Sir Anthony was shut in his study with the Sunday papers and Barley. Vincent was nowhere to be seen. Abby was standing in front of the marble fireplace, dwarfed by the huge flower painting on the wall above, one of the old masters, Marcus thought, De Arellano probably. Father liked him. Marcus thought it was gloomy like so many of the paintings in the house. If the place were truly his he’d have something more colourful and modern like Merello. He had a print of his Verano en La Marina Alta in his London apartment. Did Abby like that kind of art? He had no idea. There were so many things they didn’t know about each other.

Abby was making a filming gesture. “It’s a movie, two words, first word.” She pointed to her arse.

“Big,” said Marcus straight-faced.

Abby mock-glared at him. “No,” she said.

“Juicy.”

“Marcus!” said Vera.

“What? I’m just describing what I see.”

“Bum!” shouted Georgie, “although I can’t think of a movie with that in the title.”

“It’s not bum,” said Abby, laughing.

“You’re not supposed to talk. It’s the rules,” said Marcus.

“If only you weren’t supposed to,” she zinged in reply.

“Touché, Abby dear,” said Vera approvingly.

Abby moved onto the second word, pointing at the window, which Georgie understood. She couldn’t get the whole title even though it seemed ridiculously easy to Marcus. Too old a film for her he supposed, and Vera wasn’t one for the visual arts.

“It’s Rear Window,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “You two need to educate yourselves.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” pouted Georgie.

“Then look it up on your computer. Download it or whatever it is you do.”

“Your turn then, Marcus,” said Abby.

“Oh, no. I’m not doing one.”

“You have to. It’s the rules,” she said, smiling smugly.

Marcus got reluctantly to his feet.

“I’ve thought of one for you,” said Abby, scribbling something on the back of her card.”

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“Yes.” She handed him the paper and he looked at it. The Big Lebowski!

“How the fu, erm hell am I supposed to do that?”

Abby shrugged, settled into the seat he’d vacated, arms folded expectantly. Marcus broke the difficult word down into syllables but couldn’t think of what to do for the Le part and no one got it which meant he had to do another one and then a third. He was struggling through his fourth charade when he realised that they were deliberately getting it wrong.

“You’re all dead!” he said, pointing at each of them as they laughed. “I’m going to get my revenge and you won’t know when or how. Could be weeks from now.”

“Something to look forward to,” said Vera, deadpan. Where had this sudden sense of humour come from?

After lunch he was summonsed into his father’s study to discuss work issues and when he came out there was no sign of Abby. He went upstairs, found her in her bedroom, sitting on the bed with Vincent’s head on her lap.

“Hi, you okay?” he said, nudging the dog over so he could sit next to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She kissed him briefly then went back to stroking Vincent.

“Are you worried about going back to London?”

“It’s all going to be waiting for us.”

“I know, but we’ll manage it. We’re together now. We’re a team.”

“We were always a team,” she said, grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers through his. It made him warm to hear her say that.

“Yes, but now it’s official.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Kane International will threaten to withdraw all financial investments in the relevant papers and I have plans for that ogre who’s been stalking you.”

She looked up at him tenderly. “I mean about us.”

“Oh.” Marcus wasn’t prepared to have this conversation so soon. He hadn’t really been prepared to tell her he loved her, and not for her to say it back. “Well, obviously I want to be with you. I don’t want to have to hide, but on the other hand I know what the situation is, and I respect it.”

“I don’t want to hide either. I don’t want to go back to sneaking around and seeing you once a week if I’m lucky.”

“What can we do about it?” There was an obvious answer to Marcus, but he didn’t want to say it or push Abby towards it. Her relationship was nothing to do with him, and as desperate as he was to tell her what she should do he knew it was best to keep quiet, let her make her own decision.

“You don’t have these problems, do you, Vincent?” She leaned forward and kissed the dog’s head. She didn’t say anything else and Marcus sat quietly and waited, his thumb stroking hers. “I’m going to call Spencer, tell him I want to make our split official,” she said at last.

That was exactly what Marcus had wanted to hear. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“The studio won’t like it.”

“You don’t belong to the studio, Abby.”

She laughed bitterly. “I do. They’re not even my bosses but I do belong to them. Spencer is powerful; they’re powerful.”

“If it’s money, I have money. Way too much of it. I can finance you, help you with investments.”

“It’s not money. That’s really lovely of you and I appreciate it but it’s not the money. They only need to have a few words in the right ears and I’ll never work again.”

“Because you broke up with someone? People fall in and out of relationships all the time, even in Hollywood. Especially in Hollywood I’d have thought.”

“You’d be amazed at how many sham marriages and relationships there are. People forced to stay together until whatever indiscretion is far enough in the past to not be an issue. It’s common. Nothing can damage the show, that’s the bottom line. It makes a huge amount of revenue for them.”

It was shocking what she was telling him. She’d hinted at it before but not to this extent. He’d assumed she was having to play this game with Spencer because it was all very recent, and details needed to be worked out. He hadn’t considered it might be a long-term issue.

“The sooner you talk to him the sooner you can get the ball rolling then,” he said.

“Yes. You’re absolutely right.” She kissed him, and he pulled her down so they were lying on the bed, Vincent making up the threesome on the far side of Abby.

“I love you,” he said, stroking her hair. “I’ll wait for you, however long it takes.”

She traced the line of his nose, down to his lips. “I can’t believe this has happened. I can’t believe I met you and you’re so wonderful and perfect for me and that I love you so much.”

“No one’s ever thought me wonderful and perfect before,” he whispered, kissing the soft hairs of her temple.

“They must have been blind,” she whispered in return, fingers now on his eyebrows, down to his lids. He closed them, and she kissed them, and then his nose, and his lips, and their bodies were moving together, hips rolling against hips, her breasts squashed against his chest. Her breathing quickened and Marcus put his hand on her thigh, pushed the material of her dress up slowly, over the curve of her arse, caressing her through the silk of her knickers.

“Take them off,” she murmured, and she bent her legs so he could ease the panties down.

Her hand was between them, fumbling with the zipper on his pants. She got it down, popped the button, reached in and took out his cock, stroking it before putting her leg over his and guiding him inside her. They both sighed when he was all the way in.

“This is where I belong,” he said.

“Yeah.”

They moved together, building the tempo. Vincent groaned next to them as Abby butted against him.

“I hope he’s not turned on by this,” said Marcus and Abby shook with laughter, making Vincent groan even more.

“Someone’s going to hear him and think that’s you,” she said.

“Gawd, we’d better be quick then.”

“Not too quick.”

She kissed him, her tongue chasing his deep into his mouth. They came with stifled cries, lay together still joined afterwards, touching and caressing. Marcus had always enjoyed giving pleasure to his partners, but he’d never experienced anything like this, where the goal wasn’t the best orgasm ever but simply to be with the other person, to make love to them. It transcended his usual experience. He loved looking at Abby, being in her warm embrace, feeling loved beneath her gaze. He could lie here forever like this.

“Marcus! Abby! Where are you?” came a loud voice out in the hallway. Georgie.

“Shit!” said Marcus, pulling out of Abby quickly and trying to stuff his softening cock back in his pants without catching anything and ruining his future sex life. Abby sat up, smoothed down her dress. Vincent started barking. The door opened and Georgie appeared.

“There you are! Mrs Prentice wants to know if you want any snacks for your journey home?”

“Yes, that would be great.”

“I’d love one of her scones if she has any,” said Abby.

“Okay.” Georgie flopped on the bed next to Vincent so that made them a foursome. “What are you two doing?”

“We were just talking and playing with Vincent.” Out of the corner of his eye Marcus saw Abby kick her knickers under the bed.

“Oh, cool.” Georgie examined them critically. Nothing much got past her, but Marcus didn’t know how much she knew about sex and whether she’d guess what they’d really been up to. He hoped not. “Are you together now, like officially?”

“What? Erm, no, no. We’re just friends.”

“No you’re not, I’ve seen you before remember, AND you were holding hands beneath the table this morning, I saw you.” She crossed her arms, triumphant with her revelation.

“You’re very insightful, Georgie,” said Abby.

“I knew it the moment I met you. I told Marcus he should marry you.”

“Did you?” Abby looked at Marcus with a surprised smile.

“It was for her not for me, so she could have you as her sister.”

“It was not, Marcus!”

“Whatever you say. Listen, pipsqueak. This is between us for now, okay. No telling your friends or facebooking it or whatever it is you do. It’s important it’s just us.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, I’m just so happy and excited!”

She crawled over Vincent, arms out to give them both a hug. Her knee landed in Marcus’s still swollen crotch.

“Oof!” he said.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I love you guys! I have to be the bridesmaid at the wedding but don’t make me wear one of those puffy pink dresses, okay, I hate those. Marnie’s dad got married for the third time and his awful new wife who’s like barely older than Marnie’s older sister made her wear this dress that made her look like a meringue. I’d hate that.”

“Woah, slow down dynamo. No one’s getting married or wearing puffy dresses. This is a new thing, okay. We take our time.”

“Yeah, sure, Marcus. You will get married one day, though. You heard it here first!” She pulled a face at him then jumped off the bed. “I’m going to tell Mrs Prentice to give Abby all the scones, but you don’t want anything, or... yes, yes I’m going to tell her you want Pontefract cakes!” She grinned at him then ran out of the room.

“What’s a Pontefract cake?” said Abby.

“Some horrible liquorice thing she knows I hate. God, she got me right in my most important area,” he said, rubbing his crotch.

“You want me to kiss it better?” said Abby suggestively.

“That will just bring my parents here. They’re the only ones who haven’t disturbed us yet.”

Abby got off the bed, retrieved her knickers from under the bed and put them on. “I’m going to miss Georgie and this place.”

“We can come back anytime you want.”

“Yes, I suppose we can,” she said, her face brightening. “Okay, I’m going to finish packing. I’ll see you in the sitting room in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

Marcus kissed her then went to his room to pack his own things. What a wonderful weekend it had turned out to be. He looked out of the window, down to the sea and the beach where everything had changed. The house felt different now. Like a home. He sighed happily.

\---

Abby took a quick tour of the house before she was to meet up with Marcus in the sitting room. She’d only been here a short time, but she had so many fond memories. She stood in the dining room remembering the first night when everyone was so stiff and formal. It had changed since then, apart from Sir Anthony who would probably never relax. Marcus’s mom had softened towards her, and Georgie was adorable as always.

She moved into a room she hadn’t been in before, the one where Marcus had stood watching her and Georgie on their first morning. The walls were all dark wood panels, even the shutters over the windows. The furniture was all dark as well, period pieces she presumed, older even than the ones in the pub she’d been to with Raven. There was an overstuffed sofa in a faded yellow, and two brown leather armchairs next to the fireplace. Portraits hung on the walls – stiff men and women in collars who looked like they had pokers up their asses. Roan had paintings like this too. Was it a thing? Did they come free with every old mansion house? Maybe they were Kane ancestors. She looked closely, couldn’t see much of a resemblance.

Marcus owned all this, which had blown her mind when he’d told her last night. He wore his wealth so casually, like it weighed nothing, had no value. Maybe it didn’t if you were used to it, had grown up with it. Abby’s upbringing in New York was solidly average, a world away from this. She felt comfortable here, though, at home. She sat in one of the armchairs, put her hands on the cool leather of the arms.

Was this her future? This house, a life with Marcus? It had all happened so suddenly with him she hadn’t had time to really think about it. They’d talked about wanting to be together and how they could make that happen in terms of Spencer but what about her career? What about her life in New York? What was going to happen in two months’ time when she was booked on a plane home? They’d avoided that discussion, probably because they both knew it was a difficult one to make, or maybe Marcus hadn’t thought about it. Maybe he’d assumed she would stay in London with him.

They had to talk about that but not yet. Now she just wanted to soak up his love, bathe in it, wallow. She hadn’t felt wanted or loved in such a long time, and it was a joyful feeling. She rested her head against the back of the chair, looked up at the plaster rose on the ceiling. Thirty-eight years old and she felt like a schoolgirl. She wanted to skip and jump with the pleasure of it. Had she ever been this in love before? It was hard to remember. The early days were always heady when you were full of each other.

The clock chimed three, which was the time they were supposed to leave. She got up reluctantly, picked up her bag and headed to the sitting room. The whole family were there, dogs included. Vincent came up to her wagging his tail. It’s a good job you can’t talk, she thought as she stroked his head.

“I guess this is it,” she said. “I’m going to miss you guys, thank you so much for having me and making me feel so welcome.”

“Don’t go, Abby!” said Georgie, running up to her and flinging her arms around her. “You can make your movie here.”

“I’m not sure Dorset can pass for inner London, but I promise I will think of it as a location for the next one.” She kissed Georgie’s head. “You can come and see me in a couple of weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” she sniffed.

“It was nice to meet you, Abby,” said Vera. “I hope we will see you again.”

“Oh, you will, thank you.” Abby thought about giving her a hug, but she didn’t seem that kind of woman. She kissed her cheeks instead like Marcus had when they’d arrived.

“Have a safe journey,” said Sir Anthony, unlit pipe in mouth.

Marcus chewed on his lip as though biting back a comment. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, shaking his father’s hand. He kissed his mother and hugged Georgie.

“You behave,” he said. “Mind what I’ve told you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Georgie, grinning at him.

“I love you, you annoying little pipsqueak.” He ruffled her hair then picked up his and Abby’s bags. “Bye everyone.”

Abby followed him as he headed towards the door. Mrs Prentice came out of the kitchen, handed Abby a small wicker basket covered in a cloth.

“There’s scones and knobs in there for you, duckie, and I’ve put some of my home-made jam. You can bring the basket back next time you come,” she said, winking at Abby.

“You’re very kind. Thank you so much.”

“Are there Pontefract cakes?” said Marcus, screwing up his face.

“Do I look like a fool, ‘ansum? I knows what that girl gets up to. I’ve put yer favourite in – some nice apple cake.”

“This is why I adore you,” said Marcus, kissing her cheek.

She smiled happily. “Be off with ya. Drive safely.”

“Bye, Mrs Prentice!” said Abby.

They packed their luggage into the tiny boot of Marcus’s car. He went around to the passenger side, opened the door.

“Thank you for a wonderful weekend,” he said, leaning on the door.

“It’s been amazing. I can’t even say how much I’ve loved it.”

“You don’t have to say.” He kissed her, then waited while she folded herself into the car before shutting the door.

“Are you ready to go back?” he said when he got behind the wheel.

“No, but I guess we have to.”

“We do, but everything’s going to be different from now on.”

“It is.” She smiled, and he put the car into gear, set off down the driveway.

She turned and looked back at the house. Everything already was different, but was it going to be what they wanted? Time would tell.

\---

Back in her flat Abby unpacked, loaded the washing machine, tidied everything else away. She picked up a small cloth, put it on the table and unwrapped it. Inside were the fossils she’d found, including the ammonite Marcus had given her. She picked it up, sniffed it. It smelt of the sea, still had grains of sand lodged in its whorls. She didn’t brush them off. She kissed it, then set it in the centre of the table. “I already miss you,” she said.

She didn’t want to open her computer, find out what had happened while she was away. She wanted a few more hours of happiness before having to deal with whatever. She settled on the sofa, feet up, mug of coffee steaming on the table, and opened a book she’d stolen from Marcus’s bookcase. _The French Lieutenant’s Woman_ it was called. She vaguely remembered the movie, was excited to read the book now she knew it was set in Dorset. She’d been reading maybe an hour when her phone buzzed, and she saw it was Marcus.

“Hey, you,” she said, her pulse picking up.

“Hi to you. You settled in okay?”

“I am. I’m reading a book I stole from you.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that, the Kama Sutra?”

Abby laughed. “There may be elements of that I don’t know. It’s The French Lieutenant’s Woman.”

“Ah, yes, that’s a good one.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Missing you.”

“I’m missing you too.”

“I thought I’d let you know that I’ve checked the internet and there has been nothing new. You’ve faded from the headlines, at least for the last few days.”

“Oh, that’s good.” It was a relief to hear that. She should have had the courage to look herself rather than have the low-lying wondering all night.

“Yes, it’s great. So, Red, what are you wearing?”

Abby smiled, put down her book. “Nothing, Curly. Nothing at all.”


	14. Chapter 14

Back at work on Monday and it was good to return to the organised chaos of the movie set. Abby had little time to reflect on the last few days or mourn the loss of freedom being in Dorset had given her and Marcus. She had footage to review from the shoots that had taken place while she was away, and the crew were setting up a new scene. One thing was in the back of her mind, nagging at her, and that was the need to call Spencer. It wasn’t going to be an easy call to make, not so much for what she had to say, but hearing his voice again. She hadn’t spoken to him for over four months now, not since she’d left for the UK and he’d called her the night before from California to remind her of her duties regarding him. Goddamn bastard! She’d been too nice about all this, too accommodating.

It wasn’t his fault though she supposed. She’d agreed readily enough to keep up the pretence of their relationship. It hadn’t seemed like much of a sacrifice at the time. She wasn’t anticipating starting another relationship, and she would never date anyone she worked with so there would have been little opportunity. She hadn’t even planned to have any sexual encounters until that night she’d met Marcus in the hotel bar. She’d wanted to feel good that’s all, be wanted, maybe not even take it any further, and then she’d met him. The chemistry between them had been undeniable, her confidence sky high.

She sighed, not unhappily. Falling in love with Marcus had not been on the cards at all. Spencer wouldn’t be pleased, although he hadn’t shown any interest in her voicemails about the newspaper articles, so maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he’d make this easy for her.

At six o’clock they broke for dinner and Abby found a quiet corner of the set, took out her phone. She stared at it for a moment and then brought up Spencer’s number. It was ten in the morning in California, so he should be awake whether he was in LA on set or still up in Big Sur with his floozy. She pressed call, waited for it to ring, her heart thumping. It was his voicemail again! Jesus, Spencer! Was he avoiding her calls? Time to wake him up, force him to speak to her.

“Hi, it’s Abby. I’ve left you numerous messages but you aren’t returning my calls. I’m tired of all this pretence, Spencer. I want to make our split official. Let’s both move on with our lives, okay? Please call me.”

She ended the call with an annoyed jab of her finger. Hopefully that would get him moving.

\---

In his office on Lower Thames Street, Marcus was busy making phone calls. By midday he’d pulled the advertising of various Kane International subsidiaries from the Daily Mail and the other newspapers and online magazines who’d written negatively about Abby. He’d put pressure on their clients and partners to do the same and had instructed the accountants to inform the newspapers involved that they were looking to disinvest from all the owners’ other businesses.

At two o’clock he took a call from the editor of the Daily Mail wishing to discuss what he could do to prevent the complete withdrawal of Kane Industries’ support. He told him, and an agreement was reached. He had already decided that in the long term he would disentangle his company from these businesses, but he didn’t want to burn his bridges too soon. He needed them on side for the time being and possibly in the near future.

He turned his attention next to William Shaw, the man who’d written the disgusting, misogynistic articles about Abby. He had some contacts in the Metropolitan Police, rang one of them, told him about the domestic abuse complaints that had mysteriously gone away. His contact said that often after time had passed and the abuser was no longer part of their lives, complainants were more willing to talk. He was going to look into it. That satisfied Marcus. Between the editor who had promised to stop using the freelancer, and the possibility of a criminal investigation, William Shaw was toast. Marcus had no qualms about ruining the guy’s life. He considered it payback on behalf of the women he’d abused, both in his life and through his articles. Fuck you, Shaw, he thought.

His next problem was how to see Abby. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours, but he was missing her. He’d never imagined being in this position with a woman, wanting to be with her all the time, thinking about her, willing to do anything for her, including giving up his freedom and personal space. When things were official with her ex and the filming was finished she would need somewhere to live, and he was planning on asking her to move in with him. Not yet though. He wanted the messy parts squared away first.

His mobile phone rang and he looked at it eagerly, hoping it was her. It was Sinclair.

“Oh, hi,” he said, not hiding his disappointment.

“Try to curb your enthusiasm, I’m overwhelmed,” said Sinclair with a laugh.

“Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Clearly. Someone you’d much rather hear from. The lovely Abby I expect.”

“We just had an amazing weekend in Dorset,” Marcus said, discovering as he spoke that he wanted to talk about it, to tell someone, and not because he wanted to boast, but to share his happiness.

“In Dorset? You took her to meet the parents? Wow, it must be serious. I don’t recall you ever doing that before.”

“There’s never been anyone worth it before.”

“God, this is serious.”

“Yeah,” said Marcus with a satisfied sigh. “It is.”

“Why don’t you bring her for dinner? It would be great to meet her properly.”

“I suppose we could, as long as we can avoid the paparazzi, if there’s any left.”

“You can stay over if you want in the guest suite so we can have a few drinks like the old days.”

“Maybe not quite like the old days, not anymore.”

“I guess not now you’re practically a married man.”

Marcus laughed. “Let’s not get carried away. I’ll speak to Abby, check her schedule.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon.”

Marcus smiled as he ended the call. A couples’ dinner in someone else’s home would have had him running for the hills before now. Sinclair was right. It was serious!

\---

“I never thought anyone could tame him,” said Marcus’s friend, Sinclair, as they sat around the large dining table in his London home. Abby vaguely remembered him from the auction night at Roan’s house, although back then she’d mostly been focused on Marcus and what he was doing there. Sinclair’s name was Jacapo but no one called him that not even his wife. He had freckled skin and tight, black curly hair going to grey. His smile was warm and his eyes friendly. She liked him immediately.

His wife Marina was a natural blonde, petite like Abby, with blue eyes and a slightly crooked smile that made her look shy although she was not. She’d been mildly starstruck when she’d first met Abby like a lot of people were, though not usually in this country, but that had disappeared once they’d settled into the meal and the company.

“I agree,” said Marina. “We didn’t see this coming.”

“Neither did we,” said Abby as Marcus groaned.

“I hope we’re not going to talk about me all night,” he said.

“You used to be your favourite subject,” said Sinclair with a devilish smile.

“Not hard when I was the most interesting thing here.”

“See, it wasn’t so much we wondered who would tame him as who would put up with him,” said Marina.

“I guess I’m a sucker for punishment,” said Abby.

She ate some of her wild mushroom risotto, enjoying the food and the friendly banter of the old friends. Sinclair and Marina both had Italian origins and Marina was an excellent cook. She’d confessed earlier that it had been a pleasure to make something other than pasta or chips which was all her three kids would eat. The children were allegedly in bed, although Abby could hear them running around or bouncing on the beds, something that was making a thumping noise above. Everyone ignored it. It was a friendlier household than Marcus’s parents, but with the same chaotic energy. Was this what kids brought to every home? Probably. She was glad she didn’t have them, although one like Georgie wouldn’t be too bad. It had been fun fossil hunting with her and styling her dolls, more fun than she’d expected it would be.

She realised she was being addressed when she heard her name and she broke out of her reverie. “What was that, sorry?”

“I said I’m sure you’d like to hear some tales of Marcus’s terrible past so you know what you’re getting into,” said Sinclair.

She looked at Marcus who was shaking his head emphatically. “Oh, yes, definitely. Tell me what you have.”

Marcus groaned, rubbed his forehead with his middle finger. She half wondered if he was gesturing rudely to Sinclair but so he wouldn’t see. It was amusing seeing him so uncomfortable.

“It would take a week to tell you all the stories, but there’s one I think illustrates Marcus back then to a tee. It was Christmas, 2000.”

“Oh, dear God!” said Marcus. “You can’t tell her that!”

“The lady wants to know, Marcus, and besides, I come out of this looking even worse than you,” said Sinclair smugly. He continued undeterred. “We were at Cambridge University in our final year, and neither of us went home for the holidays, me because my parents were in Italy and Marcus because he couldn’t stand going back to Dorset.”

“We didn’t have Georgie then, so it was just me and those two, so you can imagine,” Marcus said.

“I can,” replied Abby, and he looked pleased with her response.

“Anyway, Marcus decided Cambridge was too boring for him, so he persuaded me to get the train to London with him. We went to Soho, saw a show that I can’t tell you about but the images are forever seared into my brain.”

“What that woman could do with that snake!” said Marcus grinning.

“God, don’t! Let me just remind you, Abby, we were twenty, and very, very stupid. At least Marcus was stupid, and I allowed myself to be led on.”

Marcus pulled a face at Sinclair who pulled one back.

“We met a couple of girls and I thought it would be a good idea to stay in one of my father’s hotels. Easy enough to do, but no. Marcus and his silver tongue had charmed them with tales of Cambridge at Christmas and somehow they ended up on the last train back with us. Back then it was all boys in our college and girls were strictly forbidden, not that Marcus obeyed those rules, or any rules.”

“Rebel without a cause, eh?” said Abby, smirking at him.

“My only cause was to cause mischief,” he said.

“I like it.”

“Oh, she’s doomed,” said Marina, shaking her head sadly.

“I have to admit that this next part was mostly my fault,” continued Sinclair. “We were very drunk by this time, and I thought it would be fun to take the girls out on the river Cam in a punt, do you know what that is, Abby?”

“Sure, I’ve seen some British films, it’s like a rowboat, yeah?”

“Kind of, yes. You steer it with a long pole rather than row it, like a gondola in Venice.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve been on one of those.”

“Have you?” said Marcus, interested.

“Yes, but it’s probably best we don’t talk about that.”

“Oh, okay.”

“My ex,” she said by way of explanation to Marina and Sinclair.

“It’s okay to talk about him,” said Marcus.

“I know, but I don’t want to. The thought of him brings me down.”

“Okay.” Marcus rubbed her arm gently, then took hold of her hand. Abby saw Marina and Sinclair swap amused looks.

“Back to the punt. We broke into the boathouse and stole one. I managed to launch it and get my date into it before falling arse over tit into it. At that moment Mr Jenkins the Bursar, who was in charge of our college, came running towards us because we’d set off some kind of silent alarm we didn’t know about. I started punting frantically leaving Marcus on the riverbank with a drunk girl draped all over him.

“When I finally got back to college I was surprised to see him there with this girl. I thought for sure he’d be sent down, that’s expelled from the college.”

“Why wasn’t he?” said Abby.

“That silver tongue I mentioned. It doesn’t just work on women it seems. Do you want to tell the rest, Marcus?” he said.

“If I must,” sighed Marcus. “I convinced the bursar that I was out taking an evening stroll when I came across this young woman in distress and a man who was trying to force her into the punt. I had to hope that the bursar hadn’t recognised Sinclair otherwise I was getting him into even more trouble, but the man was old, and one time when I was sneaking back late and he found me he thought I was one of the professors and didn’t question me, so I figured I was on safe ground.

“He believed me but then of course he wanted to call the police, which I couldn’t allow because then the true story would come out, so the girl said she didn’t want any trouble and I said it would look bad for the college and he thought about that and agreed. Then I said the girl had suffered a shock and it would be churlish to throw her out into the dark night with this maniac loose and bursar agreed she could stay at college in the room below mine.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t sleep in that room?” laughed Abby.

“I don’t think much sleeping happened in her room or mine. I’m not like this anymore, by the way.”

“It’s okay, Marcus. We all have a past. I think it’s funny.”

“Marcus still thinks I owe him for saving my arse,” said Sinclair.

“You do, although letting us stay at your hotel the other week may have gone some way to paying off the debt.”

“I would do that even if I didn’t owe you.”

“I know you would. You’re a good mate, even if you do enjoy embarrassing me.”

“It’s not often we get someone to embarrass you in front of. You can’t blame us for taking the chance when we get it.” Sinclair sat back, a satisfied look on his face.

“If there’s one thing I can say for me and Abby, we both knew what we were getting from the start, although it’s gone in a different direction than we anticipated.” Marcus squeezed her hand, smiled at her affectionately.

“Are you going to stay in the UK, Abby?” asked Marina.

Abby glanced at Marcus and saw him looking at her expectantly. They hadn’t discussed what they were going to do in the long term, and she wasn’t about to do it now in front of his friends.

“There are a few hurdles to overcome before we get to that,” she said, hoping her answer would satisfy everyone.

Marina nodded. “Of course, you’re probably busy with the film. How’s that going?”

The question was a good distraction and Abby told them about the movie over the dessert. Afterwards they moved to the Sinclairs’ enormous sitting room and ended up having a fun discussion about their favourite movies. It was interesting to learn what Marcus liked because they’d never discussed their tastes in things like movies or music or books. He liked a lot of action movies like Die Hard but also enjoyed the classics such as Hitchcock and the old film noirs. Casablanca was okay with him, but he drew the line at Brief Encounter which was ‘romantic nonsense’ in his words. He wasn’t keen on Abby’s obsession with British movies like Four Weddings and Notting Hill. He said they were American ideas of what British life was like even though, as Abby pointed out, they were written by Brits.

“For the American market,” he insisted.

“Well, they seem pretty popular all over the world to me. I’d give a lot to have even a tenth of their popularity for my movies.”

“Your films have integrity,” said Marcus, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek for saying that, which was the first time she’d displayed her affection for him in front of other people who weren’t his family. It felt nice to do it, freeing.

Sinclair had opened a bottle of whisky and he and Marcus were liberating quite a lot of the amber liquid. Abby stuck to sharing a bottle of red wine with Marina. The talk shifted to politics and the effect of Brexit on their businesses. Abby wasn’t certain how it would affect the movie industry in the UK. Maybe she should think about it if, IF, she ended up living and working here.

By one o’clock the conversation had slowed and they were lolling in the chairs listening to Pink Floyd which reminded Marcus and Sinclair of their student days even though they were too young to have been around when the band was in its heyday. When the album ended they said their goodnights. The Sinclairs went upstairs to bed and Abby and Marcus went to the guest suite which was above the pool room.

Marcus was full of whisky and torment and he dragged her into the pool room, gesturing to the shimmering water which reflected the multi-coloured lights strung along the walls.

“It’s heated, you know,” he said with a wink.

“Is it?”

“Uh-huh. Might be nice to get some exercise before bed. It helps you sleep.”

“I’m sure I’ll sleep fine,” replied Abby, knowing the inevitable was going to happen, but enjoying teasing him first.

Marcus stood in front of her so she was backed against the wall. He fingered the buttons on her blouse. “It would help me sleep, and I don’t want to swim alone, not in my condition. I might drown. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” He teased one of the buttons from its hole, working his way down to where the blouse was tucked into her pants.

“I wouldn’t want that, no.”

“Then come and swim with me, but we have to be naked.”

“Why’s that?” said Abby, giving in and unfastening his belt.

“Because I said so.” He pulled open her blouse and bent his head to kiss the swell of her breasts.

The water was warm when Abby dived in naked. She tried to keep ahead of Marcus but he was such a powerful swimmer he soon caught up with her. He grabbed her and pulled her to him, standing where the water was waist high on him, chest high on Abby. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him. They kissed, their moans echoing around the tiled room. He carried her easily to the side, sat her on the edge, opening her legs wide and devouring her greedily. Abby hoped one of the kids wouldn’t wake and fancy a late-night swim as she lay back on the wet tile and closed her eyes.

Marcus pulled her back into the water after she’d come, turned her so she was facing the edge of the pool and pushed inside her from behind. He fucked her as hungrily as he’d eaten her out, creating waves that washed around them. They floated lazily afterwards like they had in the sea at Dorset.

“I hope we’re like this together forever,” murmured Marcus.

Abby grasped his hand in reply.

\---

Two days later Abby was at work on the set. She’d been acting all morning in an emotional scene that had taken a lot out of her mentally and physically. As a consequence she’d taken half an hour to herself in the new trailer. She emerged to something of a commotion amongst the cast and crew. People were gathered in one spot, talking excitedly. She walked over, curious as to what had got them so animated. In the centre of the group she saw a tall figure with dirty blonde hair slicked back from the front and shaggy at the back. The man laughed, his chiselled cheekbones becoming even more pronounced. The people gathered around him laughed too.

Abby’s body did numerous things at once. Her heart thumped at the sight of him, an involuntary reaction caused by ten years of loving him. Her stomach lurched, making her feel sick. That too was caused by the sight of him, and the memory of finding out what he’d been up to for years, and his uncaring attitude when she’d confronted him. Her pulse raced at the thought of having to talk to him. What the hell was Spencer doing here?

“Look who’s here, Abby!” said Raven, grinning maniacally.

Spencer turned, smiled when he saw Abby, his blue eyes twinkling, creasing at the edges in the way that made his legion of female fans swoon. It used to have that effect on Abby but not anymore. Now it made her want to curl her lip and growl.

“Hello, Angel,” he said, walking towards her, the crowd around him parting reluctantly.

“Hello, Spencer.” She kept her voice low and even, hoping to betray none of the turmoil that was inside her.

He put his hand on her shoulder, drew her to him, placed a kiss on her cheek. “Be nice,” he whispered.

“You don’t deserve nice,” she whispered back.

He smiled, but the twinkle in his eyes faded. “Please,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” Abby said more loudly, trying to put some enthusiasm into her voice despite how she felt. She didn’t want anyone knowing her business until she was ready to tell them, so if that meant playing along for now then so be it.

“I’ve missed you, thought it would be a surprise.”

“It’s certainly that.”

“We should give you two some time alone,” said Raven, ushering some of the crowd away.

“No, it’s fine. There’s a lot to get on with. Spencer won’t mind waiting, will you?”

“I’ll just sit here and watch the genius at work,” he said, sitting in Abby’s Producer chair.

An actual growl did escape her at his temerity, which caused Raven to glance sharply at her.

“It’s good to see Spencer, right?” she said, frowning as she looked at Abby.

“Of course; it’s a shock that’s all.”

Raven nodded but she didn’t look convinced. Abby wondered if she could take her into her confidence, but she wasn’t sure. Raven had been happy to see Spencer, liked him. She wasn’t one of his conquests, Abby had made sure of that when she’d got the whole truth out of him. Raven was loyal, but she was also friendly with Spencer. Abby didn’t want to sour that relationship for her. Spencer was well connected and a good contact for Raven career-wise.

It was two hours before Abby got a moment to herself. She bypassed Spencer, found a quiet spot and called Marcus.

“Hey, Red! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you during the day. How was the scene?” He sounded so cheerful and happy to hear from her it caused a lump to form in Abby’s throat for some reason.

“The scene was tough, but we got it in the can.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah. That’s not why I’m calling though.”

“You couldn’t wait to hear my dulcet tones.” Marcus laughed.

“Always. Listen, Marcus, erm, something happened at work today. Spencer’s here.”

There was silence for a moment while Marcus digested this news.

“Your Spencer?”

“He’s not mine anymore, but yes.”

“Yeah, poor choice of words, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m feeling a little fraught.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him privately yet. He arrived while I was on a break and everyone was here. I had to play nice.”

“Of course, of course. Do you want me to come over?”

“No, not right now. I think it’s better if I talk to him alone first. Thanks for offering, though.”

“Just say the word and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that. I guess I’ll talk to him after work.”

“Go for a drink somewhere,” said Marcus, and Abby figured he didn’t want her to be alone with Spencer.

“It’ll probably have to be more private than that.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.

A bell rang on set which meant it was time to go back to work.

“I have to go, but I’ll call you as soon as I can after I’ve talked to him.”

“Okay. Be careful, Abby. Don’t let him bully you.”

“I won’t. I love you,” she said, thinking it would be good to say it, to reassure him.

“I love you too. We’ll speak later.”

Abby ended the call then walked around the side of the trailer. She let out a soft cry when she saw Spencer standing there.

“That him was it? Your lover?” he said, looking sharply at her.

“You have no right. No right at all,” she said, and then she pushed past him and headed towards the set.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby has to deal with Spencer's unexpected arrival.

The day turned out to be a long one with reshoots required, and Abby was tired when they finally decided to call it quits, too tired to have to deal with Spencer but there was no avoiding him. He’d stayed the entire time, charming everyone from wardrobe to craft services. He’d even managed to wangle his way into a cameo appearance in the movie, making a big deal of it in front of everyone so there was no way she could say no. That was one scene that would end up on the cutting room floor. She’d reshoot it at her own expense once he’d gone.

As the day had worn on she’d come to the conclusion that meeting him in private was a bad idea. She didn’t want him in her home or to know where she was living and she wasn’t going to go to his hotel room, give him a kind of home advantage. Marcus had been right, somewhere public would be best. Neutral territory. She gave Spencer the name of a bar in Soho she’d been to with the cast and crew when she’d first arrived in England. It had booths for privacy but was public enough to provide the security of other people around. Spencer told her she was crazy when she insisted on travelling there in separate cabs, but she dismissed him, determined that this would be on her terms or not at all.

He was sitting in one of the booths perusing a menu when she arrived.

“Food looks okay,” he said. “I didn’t think the Brits could cook.”

“I’m not hungry,” replied Abby, taking off her coat and slipping into the seat opposite him.

“Now come on, you must be. All day on set like that and you didn’t eat anything.”

It irked her that he’d been watching her and noticing what she did or didn’t do.

“You really can’t even eat with me after all those years we spent together?” Spencer continued when she didn’t respond.

Abby sighed. She was starving, and it would be easier to face him with some nourishment inside her.

“Fine. I’ll have the watermelon and feta salad.”

Spencer pulled a face at her choice. “You’re in England and that’s what you’re eating? I’m gonna try the famous fish and chips everyone talks about.” He got up and headed to the bar.

Abby watched him as he leaned towards the server. Had he always been like this? Controlling, judgemental? Maybe when you loved someone it seemed like interest, caring. She didn’t think he’d changed. She had.

“My treat,” he said when he returned.

“Thanks,” said Abby begrudgingly.

A waiter came to their table and set two drinks in front of them.

“I know how you love a cocktail,” said Spencer, smirking.

“I’ll have an orange juice,” Abby said to the waiter. She pushed her drink towards Spencer, unhappy that he’d remembered something like that because she thought of it now as something she and Marcus shared; it was how they’d met. “No thanks.”

“Look, Angel, I know that things have been awkward between us lately, but you can at least be civil.”

“I AM being civil, more than you deserve, and please don’t call me Angel. I never liked it.”

“We both know that’s not true. You used to like me calling it you when we were in bed together. It made you hot.”

“Why are you here, Spencer?” she said, ignoring his insinuations. For some reason he was trying to invoke the happier times they’d shared together, to butter her up perhaps, make her less likely to blow up at him. Well, it wasn’t going to work. Her time with him was an embarrassment to her now because it had all been based on lies and deceit.

“I got your voicemail and I wanted to talk about our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship. We had a sham of one and that’s over. I want to move on.”

“Our relationship wasn’t a sham. I loved you. I still love you.”

“People who love other people don’t sleep with everyone who crosses their path behind their back. You cheated and lied our whole time together, Spencer. You can’t seriously think there’s anything to talk about.”

“We had a lot of good times together despite all that. We could again.” He reached across the table, his fingers creeping towards hers. Abby pulled back, put her hands on her lap.

“I don’t want that from my partner.”

“Is that why you’re with Mr Boring? Marcus.” He said Marcus’s name with a sneer. “I looked him up. A businessman, Abby. Really?”

“I’m not going to discuss him with you.”

Spencer folded his arms, sat back and regarded her quizzically. “It’s interesting to me that you met him on your trip here, makes me wonder how many other men you’ve had when you’ve been working abroad.”

“I was faithful to you. You know I was.”

“I don’t know that. You’re only here five minutes and you’re with him. Seems like a pattern of behaviour to me.”

“Don’t project your own low morals onto me.”

Spencer laughed. “Low morals. I believe he’s investing in your movie. Does he get you in return? Quid pro quo.”

Abby gathered her coat, started to scoot out of the booth. “This was a mistake,” she said.

“No, wait. Don’t go. That was low, I’m sorry. I was surprised by your voicemail, that’s all, and finding out about this guy. It fucked me up a little.” He turned the full blue-eyed lost little boy look on her and despite knowing it was all fake and hating herself for it, Abby relented, sat back down.

“I’m happy to talk about our relationship and the future, but any more insults or insinuations and I’m going,” she said.

“Fine. Yes.”

The waiter came over at that moment with their food and an orange juice for Abby. A silence descended while Spencer tucked into his fish and chips with a gusto that belied his so-called devastation a moment ago. She picked at her salad, followed each bite with a slug of orange juice to help it down her dry throat.

“This is good, this is good,” said Spencer. “I take back everything I’ve ever said about the British people.”

“They have this thing called a roast dinner, but you can only eat it on a Sunday.”

“What? Why?” he said, looking astonished.

“I don’t know why. It’s good though. Literally everything is roasted, except this popover thing called a Yorkshire pudding.”

“I’ll have to try that then.”

“Are you planning on staying a few days?”

Spencer shrugged. “Depends.”

Abby didn’t want to ask him on what, fearing it would be her.

“Remember that thing we had in Japan a few years ago, those fermented soya beans?” said Spencer changing the subject.

“Oh, God, natto. Don’t remind me.” Abby put her hand to her mouth, the mere mention of the name bringing back the awful smell of the beans.

“You really tried to eat them because that guy was wanting the Japanese distribution rights and you didn’t want to offend him.” He laughed at the memory.

“That was a lifetime ago.”

“Yeah. Good times.” Spencer smiled fondly at her and Abby felt a wave of sadness wash over her. They’d had a lot of good times, and he’d ruined it.

“Like I said in my voicemail I want to make our split official. I’m happy to go with something like we grew apart, we’re still friends, we wish each other well etcetera. I don’t want to air our dirty linen in public, so I’ll never say anything about what you’ve done. You can trust me on that.”

Spencer finally stopped shovelling food into his mouth. He put down his knife and fork. “I just don’t think that’s what I want, Abby.”

A knot that had been growing in Abby’s stomach tightened. “Don’t you want to be free too? If we make it official, then you can be with whatsherface without having to hide.”

“That’s over. She was too clingy in the end. Not independent like you.”

Abby stared at Spencer, shocked at his reply. “Since when? I thought you were up in Big Sur at some retreat with her.”

“That’s what I told people, but I went alone. I wanted time to think, to gather myself.”

“And?”

“And I’ve been an idiot. I accept that. I want to change, and I still want you.”

“You only want me because you’ve found out someone else does.”

“No! I realised what I was losing when I found out about this Kane guy, that’s all. You’re clever and beautiful and hot and I don’t deserve you, I know that.”

“You’re damn right you don’t. You know, Spencer, an affair I could maybe have dealt with. We’re apart a lot, I know how things can be on set. You make a mistake, you’re sorry. Perhaps I could have worked through that. But your behaviour is symptomatic of something that’s ingrained in you. Over ten years with multiple women, the studio having to bail you out. That’s not being an idiot. That’s being a serial cheat and liar. A week in Big Sur isn’t going to change you. You need psychological help if you truly want to change, and I don’t think you do. You want to go back to how we were, me at home the dutiful support, the reliable one you can fall back on while you live the life you really want out in California. I’m just a comfortable sofa to you. I want more than that. I want to be loved for me. I want to be special to someone. That’s what I deserve.”

“You think you’re gonna get that with this Kane guy? He’s using you, Abby. You’re a trophy. Dating a movie star is probably the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to him.”

“See, you’re just proving my point. You can’t believe he might want me for me! It has to be for something else. That’s YOU you’re describing, not him.”

The waiter came to their table, smiling tentatively. “Everything alright?” he said.

“Yes, thank you,” said Abby, not sure if he was asking about the food or them. Her voice had grown loud during that last exchange, her exasperation with Spencer getting the better of her.

“I’ll clear the plates,” he said, picking them up and moving away hurriedly.

“I understand I’ve hurt you and that I have no right to expect anything from you. Can you just hold off doing anything for the time being, just for a day or two? I need to gather myself, you know? It’s a lot.”

The last thing Abby wanted was to drag this out further, but she was tired, and it was clear that Spencer wasn’t going to make it easy for her. She should just announce it anyway, to hell with him and the studio, but it would make life simper all round if they could resolve this amicably. It was too soon to give up.

“I’ll give you a day or two, but then we’re going to have a proper talk and we’re going to come to a decision that suits us both, okay? We’re over, Spencer. The only thing that’s left is for both of us to come out of this undamaged reputationally. That’s all I want.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, blue eyes looking up at her through his long dark eyelashes.

“Then let me go.” Abby grabbed her coat, slid out of the booth before he could respond and left.

Outside it was dark and wet, the cobbled streets glistening with it. She hailed a cab, was glad to get inside out of the rain.

\---

That same evening, Marcus was stretched out on the sofa in front of the TV in nothing but boxer shorts and a black t-shirt, trying to relax. His phone was by his side and he kept glancing at it, hoping Abby would call and tell him how it had gone with bloody Spencer. He was surprised when he heard the lift door ping and open and jumped up. No one should be able to get in without him being pre-warned by the concierge.

His heart leapt when he saw a familiar figure appear, a soft smile on her face.

“Hey!” he said, hurrying towards Abby. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“I’m sorry for bursting in. I persuaded Barry to let me in without telling you.”

“Who’s Barry?”

“The concierge.”

“Oh, right. Well, it’s great to see you.” He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She stayed in his embrace longer than she normally would for a regular hello.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to be with you.”

“Okay. Let me take your coat.”

He eased it from around her shoulders, hung it on the peg. “Have you eaten? Do you want a drink?”

“I, erm, I didn’t really eat much to be honest.”

“Is it a pizza and Marcus cocktails kind of night?”

“I think so.”

“Go and sit down. I’ll sort it.” He ordered them a vegetarian pizza on his phone app, set about making two cocktails.

“A French 75 for my lady,” he said, handing her the drink.

She smiled, took a sip. “Lovely.”

Marcus sat on the sofa next to Abby and she curled up next to him. He put his arm around her. He was desperate to know what had happened with Spencer but held himself back. He got the feeling she would tell him if she wanted to, and that pushing her would be the wrong move.

“What the hell are you watching?” she said.

“Oh, God. Please forget you saw me doing this.” He muted the TV. “It’s called Strictly Come Dancing, it’s like a reality show with so-called celebrities. Georgie’s obsessed with it and she wants to discuss it next time she’s up. I’ve been commanded to watch the latest episodes on the BBC iPlayer.”

“We have that too, I think, called Dancing with the Stars.”

“It’s bloody awful.” He shook his head ruefully as he looked at her.

Her face crumpled as though she was about to cry.

“It’s not that bad!” said Marcus, alarmed.

“You’re such a good man. You really are. You’re so genuine, so honest.”

“What’s brought this on?”

“Fucking Spencer,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“What’s that bastard said?”

He listened as quietly as he could while she told him the story of her evening with her ex. It was all he could do not to comment too much, reducing his responses to tuts and clicks of his tongue while he let her get the whole tale out.

“He’s up to something, Marcus, but I don’t know what it is.”

“You think he genuinely wants you back?”

“No, although if I said he could have me and his women at the same time I think he’d jump at the chance, yes, but does he want me? No, there’s something else going on.”

“Like what?”

“Damned if I know.”

“Do you want me to do some digging?”

Abby drained her drink. “Yes, please. He’s going to want to meet again in a couple of days and I want to be prepared.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything for you.” He stroked her face, kissed her lips softly.

She was responding when the concierge called to say the pizza was on its way up.

They ate it watching Four Weddings and a Funeral at Abby’s insistence. Marcus didn’t object because she was already so down, and he was glad because she laughed most of the way through it.

“You must know by now we Brits are not all like that,” he said when the film was over.

“I don’t know. You have a bit of Hugh Grant, especially the hair. If you grew it longer it would be as floppy as his.”

“That would drive me insane.”

“It would be hot, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm, yeah.”

They resumed the kissing that had been interrupted by the pizza arrival, made love on the sofa and then on the floor. Marcus had a stomach ache afterwards from exerting himself while full of pizza. He lay in bed next to Abby, hand on his belly, groaning.

“Poor you,” she said, rubbing it gently.

“It was worth it.”

She leaned towards him, kissed his nose and then his lips. “Thank you for being you.”

“It will be alright, you know. We’ll make sure of it.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you.” He turned onto his side so he was facing her. “There may be farting, sorry,” he said, rubbing his belly.

Abby laughed so hard her shoulders were shaking. “That’s true love right there.”

\---

“Thanks for doing this,” said Marcus as he took at seat at the small meeting table in Sinclair’s office.

“I’m happy to help, you know that.”

“Legitimately this time,” replied Marcus with a rueful grin.

“In terms of Abby knowing, yes. It’s still pretty dodgy in terms of the actual law of the land.”

“No one will know. So, what have you got for me?” Marcus could have done this over the phone like last time, but he wanted to be here in person to see what Sinclair found and plot their next steps with his friend.

“He is staying at one of our hotels, our flagship actually, The Royal Mayfair.”

“He’s staying at the Mayfair? Jesus. Even I can’t afford that place.”

“Me either and it’s my hotel,” chuckled Sinclair. “He’s in one of our Presidential suits. It costs £2,500 a night and he’s booked in for a week plus all his meals.”

“Wow, so that’s probably twenty thousand in total! When did he arrive?”

“Two days ago. Here’s his ID.”

Sinclair showed Marcus a photo of a man with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. It was a passport photograph but obviously one taken professionally because the lighting was perfect. His skin looked smooth and tanned and there was a slight crease at the corner of each eye as though he wanted to smile but was trying not to.

“Hmm,” he said.

“Have you not seen a photo of him before?”

“No. I try to forget he even exists most of the time.”

“He looks like that guy to me, that really famous actor. What’s his name? Brad Pitt?”

“Brad Pitt! You have to be kidding.” Marcus peered more closely.

“I’ll google him, hang on.”

Sinclair did a search and brought up photos of Brad Pitt and Spencer Newman. There was even one of them together at some awards event. Marcus curled his lip at the sight of the man.

“Nothing like him,” he muttered, though the resemblance was remarkable.

“Abby’s a beautiful woman and she moves in all these actor circles; he was bound to be handsome.”

“You don’t need to remind me.” There were other pictures in the search on Spencer, ones of him and Abby, usually dressed up and posing on a red carpet. He realised he’d barely considered what kind of life she’d really led before now, one of fancy parties and famous friends and awards shows. Marcus used to have a good social life, but he’d become something of a hermit in recent years, even more so since he’d met Abby and they had to be discrete. Was she really going to want a life here with him?

“He’s part of her life, Kane. If you and she are going to be together properly then you’ll have to accept that. You’ve been living in a bubble with her so far, but real life is messy.”

“I know that!”

“Do you? You’ve never had a serious relationship. They’re not just great sex and fun times. They take work.”

“I’m prepared to do the work,” he said, folding his arms defensively.

“Good, then start with accepting Spencer exists.”

“Okay. Fine.” He stared at the passport photo on Sinclair’s screen. “Is he paying for this himself? I mean, I know some actors get paid a lot but Abby isn’t rich enough to stay somewhere like this. Does being on some shitty TV show pay this well?”

“I’ll check it out.” Sinclair’s fingers click clacked on the keyboard and Marcus watched almost hypnotically. “His stay is being paid for by United Studios Productions.” More typing. “They’re a major TV and film studio based in California. Oh, there are other people from the studio staying in the hotel, though in cheaper rooms.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They’ve got three others booked in as well as Spencer.”

“Interesting. Are they over here for work?”

Sinclair looked at Marcus with an expression he knew well from their school days. It was a cross between exasperation and amusement.

“You know you have fingers the same as I do. You just put them on the keys here and type, and answers appear on this screen thing.”

“Ha-ha! You’re so much faster than me, and you understand the internet better.”

“You’re a bloody dinosaur.”

Marcus smiled smugly which he knew drove Sinclair mad. He’d still do what he wanted, though. Always had.

“I’m going to sit at your desk for a bit, see what it’s like to be head of a hotel chain.”

“It’s not a hotel chain! It’s an international company and as you well know we are only three behind Kane International on the FTSE 100.”

“Still behind, though.”

“Do you want me to do this search for you or not?”

“Yes, please.” This time Marcus’s smile was sweeter, and although it elicited a tut, a shake of the head and a sigh from Sinclair, the man turned back to his computer and started typing. Marcus sat at Sinclair’s huge wooden desk, made some calls, starting with his company’s investigators.

A cup of coffee and a Danish pastry later Sinclair called Marcus over to the table.

“This was hard work, so you owe me big time.”

“Dinner in the Executive Box at Arsenal,” said Marcus.

“I own an Executive Box at Arsenal.”

“Dinner somewhere else then.”

“No, I’ve got it. You can pay for dinner and then you can babysit the kids so I can take Marina out.”

“What! That’s a heavy price to pay! Way, way, way out of proportion.” Marcus thought about Sinclair’s kids and how they’d practically bounced through the ceiling the other night at dinner. He didn’t fancy the idea of looking after them one bit.

“Do you want the info or not?”

“It had better be worth it.”

“I don’t know about that. I haven’t found anything about any deals they’re doing here or any projects they have going on. In fact, the studio seems to be in some financial difficulty. That’s not common knowledge but I got the rumour from my financial manager whose husband knows someone in the US audit office or something. I didn’t question it.”

“They’re in financial trouble but they’re paying for him to stay in the best room in London?”

“He’s their star isn’t he? Maybe he insists.”

“Maybe they’re using him to drum up business and investors."

"There’s nothing official to suggest that’s what they’re here for but if they don’t want the markets to know they’re in trouble then they might be doing it quietly.”

“Something’s not right. Keep digging will you, and thanks for what you’ve done today.”

“You’re welcome, and I’ll let you know what day’s good for the babysitting.”

“Bugger. I’d hoped you’d forget that,” said Marcus, getting up to leave.

“Not a chance.”

“Can I at least bring Abby?”

“As long as you don’t mess up my pool room like last time.”

“What?” said Marcus, genuinely surprised and also amused at the look on Sinclair’s face.

“It looked like a tsunami had happened in there when we went in the next day.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Marcus primly, and he left before Sinclair could say anything else, grinning as he closed the door behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus has a surprise encounter. He and Abby have a frank conversation.

Marcus spent the rest of the day following his meeting with Sinclair at his office. When he arrived back at his building the concierge greeted him as usual, but then drew him to one side.

“There’s a man waiting to see you in the bar, Mr Kane,” he said.

“Oh? Did he give a name?”

“No, sir, but I think it’s that film star, the one who’s in a lot of things.”

“Brad Pitt you mean,” said Marcus with a sinking feeling.

“Yes! That’s it.”

“It’s not Brad Pitt, but I know who it is. Thank you, erm, Barry.”

Barry the concierge looked taken aback at Marcus’s use of his name, which had never happened before because he hadn’t known it until Abby had mentioned it. “Oh, you’re welcome, Mr Kane. Let me know if he’s any trouble.”

“He might be, so stand by.”

“Will do, sir.”

Marcus walked into the room, saw Spencer sitting at the bar, the other end to where Marcus had first met Abby thankfully. He was scanning the room and the doorway, and his eyes moved past Marcus at first, and then returned, settled on him. Marcus walked towards him slowly, confidently, although inside he was trying to figure out what the hell the man wanted. Surely not to cause trouble in public.

“Spencer Newman?” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Marcus Kane.”

“Yes, I was hoping to see you.”

“Can’t think why,” said Marcus, pleased to see Newman looked disconcerted. He’d been hoping to have the element of surprise perhaps, and now Marcus had put him on the back foot.

“We have someone in common, Abby.”

“Again, I can’t think why you would want to talk to me about Abby.”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“You’re her ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, technically.”

Marcus cast a critical eye over Spencer. He supposed he was good-looking in a Hollywood kind of way. Over tanned and over moisturised for Marcus. He was well groomed in a way that looked not groomed at all. His hair was nearly shoulder length, fluffed up to hide what Marcus thought was some thinning. He ran his fingers through his own thick, luxurious hair just to emphasise a point. Newman’s startlingly blue eyes were looking Marcus over in the same way. They weren’t alike physically, apart from being tall and slender. Perhaps Abby didn’t have a physical type.

“I think technically you’re history,” said Marcus.

Newman bristled. He probably wasn’t used to coming off second best, but neither was Marcus. He was determined to stand his ground.

“I was hoping for a civil discussion.”

“About what?”

“About Abby and her future.”

“Shouldn’t such a conversation involve Abby?”

“I have spoken to Abby.”

“As have I.”

“Then you’ll know she’s confused about what is best for her.”

Marcus was about to respond when he wondered if Newman was trying to subtly probe him for information, to find out what Abby really thought.

“I’m sure Abby’s capable of judging what’s best for her.” Marcus moved closer to the bar, feeling like he could use a drink for this conversation but not wanting Newman to think he was entertaining him in any way. He stood within a foot of the man, stared him in the eye. Newman held his ground a moment, then he conceded by waving towards a bar stool.

“Won’t you at least take a drink with me?”

Marcus ignored the stool, but he nodded to the barman who brought him a whisky over ice. He didn’t offer Newman a drink.

“Vodka tonic,” Newman said when the barman glanced at him.

Marcus sniffed dismissively at Newman’s choice, didn’t consider that a proper drink. What did Abby ever see in this guy? He was an arsehole, but then hadn’t he been an arsehole when they’d first met? Treating her like shit the morning after because he’d thought she regretted waking up with him. Maybe she was attracted to arseholes. Oh, God! No. He could be an arse, yes, but not like this guy. He had to keep in mind that this was a man who had cheated on Abby with hundreds of women, who had hurt her beyond reason, something Marcus was incapable of even fathoming. He’d had a lot of women himself but never at the same time, well except literally at the same time which was a different thing. He realised Newman was speaking, tuned reluctantly back in.

“—the studio WILL destroy her; she should be in no doubt about that.”

“It sounds to me like these threats are just empty ones you’re making to keep her where you want her. What’s really going to happen if she leaves regardless? Loss of money isn’t an issue. I’m one of the wealthiest men in Europe. Loss of you would be a relief I’m sure. Her reputation isn’t tied to you or your studio, so what exactly, Spencer, is going to happen?”

“It doesn’t matter how much money you have. Every movie or TV show has a lot of people working on it, producers, directors, I’m sure you know what’s involved. It costs millions of dollars to make something half decent and there’s no guarantee of a return, but even if you had that money to throw away again and again, it’s irrelevant if there’s no one willing to work with her on the movie. That’s what the studio will do. They’ll make it clear that anyone who works with her will never work with them or any of their associated companies, and that’s a large part of Hollywood.

“It doesn’t matter how loved Abby is or how bad they might feel about it, people will protect themselves. She won’t be able to make movies, and that’s what she lives for. Are you going to stand in her way? Are you going to deny her what she loves? You think she’s going to be happy being Mrs Marcus Kane, staying at home bringing up your children, going to corporate dinners and sucking up to businessmen on your behalf?” Newman shook his head dismissively. “If you love her, you won’t condemn her to that life.”

Marcus was stunned by Newman’s words. He’d heard it from Abby of course but never so starkly. “It’s not the bloody mafia,” he said.

“It is, Marcus. That’s exactly what it is. Read your history, look up Katharine Hepburn, see if you think I’m exaggerating.” Newman drained his drink, put his glass on the bar. “I’ll let you think about what I’ve said.”

Marcus stared after him, wondering how he’d lost control of that discussion so quickly. Why were they so keen to hold onto Abby? It didn’t make sense to him. It wasn’t as though she was a big box office star like Cameron Diaz or whoever was big these days. She was a small independent filmmaker, and Spencer Newman was the star of some shitty TV show. He couldn’t possibly be worth all this fuss, could he?

He drained his whisky, took the lift to his apartment. Inside he settled on the sofa with his laptop, googled Katharine Hepburn. She’d been labelled box office poison in the late nineteen thirties, theatres refusing to show her films, the studios wanting nothing to do with her. It was a terrible situation, but it was nearly a hundred years ago. The same system wasn’t in place now, was it? Then he thought about Harvey Weinstein, and how women had been too frightened to speak against him for fear of him ruining their careers. Bloody hell! What kind of industry was that to work in?

It was what Abby loved, though. Newman was right about that. It wasn’t Marcus’s place to tell Abby what to do, but on the other hand he didn’t want to get in the way of her career and her future. If he tried to hold onto her then she might give in and be with him but did he want that if she was going to be miserable? He shut the laptop, leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. If Newman had been trying to throw a spanner in the works then he’d been successful. Marcus was confused now, and worried, didn’t know what to do for the best. Abby’s happiness was the most important thing, but what would truly make her happy, and at what cost?

Later that evening he got a call from Sinclair, which only left him more confused. He went to bed and spent a largely sleepless night turning everything over and over in his mind, came to a conclusion of sorts around an hour before he had to get up for work.

\---

Abby stood in the small kitchen of her apartment stirring a pot and yawning. She’d had two night shoots and was exhausted. There was only a week of shooting left, and although they were roughly on schedule the pace had picked up so they could squeeze in a couple of new scenes now they had the larger budget. It was relentless, but the end of this part was in sight. Then it was onto post-production and the relative peace and sanity of a BBC studio. She couldn’t wait for that. Post-production was her favourite activity, where she got to see her vision become reality, decide what stayed and what went.

She hadn’t spoken to Marcus in nearly twenty-four hours which was the longest she’d been without talking to him in months now. She’d been asleep while he was at work and vice versa. She’d had a text from him earlier, received when she’d woken from an exhausted sleep. He wanted to come over and talk about what he’d found out from Sinclair. She was excited to see Marcus, nervous about what he had to say. She’d also had a text from Spencer asking to meet her again. She’d put off answering that, wanted to hear Marcus’s news before agreeing to anything.

He hadn’t been to her apartment often, and she hadn’t cooked much for him either, so she’d wanted to make something authentically American. She had a pot of jambalaya on the stove and if he stayed over which she expected he would, she was going to make pot roast, show him what an American Sunday dinner was all about. She’d been to the market in Notting Hill to get all the ingredients, was looking forward to it.

At seven the doorbell rang and she sprang to answer it, throwing her arms around him before he’d made it through the door.

“I missed you!” she said, pressing kisses all over his lightly stubbled face.

He held her tight, stroked her hair. “I missed you too.”

She brought him into the living room, took his coat, draped it over the back of the sofa.

“Something smells amazing!” he said, sniffing the air. “What’s for dinner?”

“Me,” said Abby, and she led him to the bedroom, pulled him down on top of her on the bed.

“That was some greeting!” said Marcus with a laugh when they were putting their clothes back on afterwards.

“Well, I figured I’d probably be too tired later so I’d get my Marcus lovin’ in early.” She went to the kitchen, checked that her jambalaya hadn’t been destroyed. It was fine. “You hungry?”

“I am now.”

“Okay, take a seat. Won’t be a moment.”

She gave him a bottle of wine to open, put the finishing touches to her meal. She served the food and took a seat opposite him, mainly so she could look at him while they ate. He’d been enthusiastic as ever in bed, but seemed subdued now. Abby felt the hard stone of something settle in her stomach, suddenly didn’t feel like eating much.

“This is fantastic,” Marcus said, smiling appreciatively at her.

“Thanks. It was one of my childhood favourites. I thought we’d have a lazy Sunday tomorrow and I’ll make a pot roast, give ya a little taste of America.”

She expected a quip in return, something about him tasting America every time he was with her, but he just nodded.

“Sounds wonderful.”

They ate the jambalaya in silence until Abby could take it no longer.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Is that real fine or is that British fine? Cause you know you Brits would say you were fine even if you were hanging by a fingernail off a steep cliff.”

Marcus sputtered as he was taking a sip of his wine. “That’s true,” he said, smiling at last. “Erm, I suppose it’s British fine, yes.”

“Is this about Spencer? What did you find out?”

“I wanted to enjoy some time with you before we got into all that.”

“But we’re not, though, are we? You’re tense and I feel nervous. Let’s just get it all out. What did you find out?”

“Have you spoken to him at all?”

“No, he texted saying he wanted to meet up but I ignored it. I wanted to talk to you first.”

Marcus took a large sip of his wine as though he had to fortify himself for what he had to say, which made Abby eve more nervous. “The first thing I should tell you is he came to see me.”

Abby was so shocked at this news she didn’t think she’d heard Marcus correctly. “What?”

“I got home from work Friday night and he was in the bar of my building. I had little choice but to speak to him.”

“What did he want? He didn’t threaten you or anything did he?”

“It was reasonably civilised. He mainly wanted to impress upon me how easily your career would be ruined if you didn’t go along with what the studio wants. He put it in very clear terms that you’d never make films again, that no one would work with you even if they wanted to.”

“I know that I’ve said that, but I don’t think it would be that bad.”

“He was very convincing. He said no amount of money I could put behind you would help if you couldn’t get a crew together. He said that making movies was what you loved and that denying you that would make you unhappy.”

Anger welled in Abby, starting in the pit of her stomach and rising until it made her chest tighten. “He doesn’t know what makes me happy. He hasn’t cared about me for a long time.”

“I know, but he’s right, Abby. You work so hard and you love making films. It’s what you do, it’s who you are. What are you going to do if you leave him and move here? You’re not going to be happy being my wife, living a life dictated by my work. That’s not going to be fulfilling for you.”

Abby had to get up and pace the floor, the anger so pent up now she thought she would explode if she didn’t move and somehow distribute it around her body. “Marcus, I love you but it’s not up to you to decide how I’m going to feel about something either. The two of you can’t stand in a bar over a drink and decide my future!”

“I did say that to him, but he was convincing, Abby, and the more I thought about it the more it made sense.”

“God, he’s good. This is how he’s got away with what he has over all these years, this is how he convinced me he was a true and loyal partner. He’s playing you, Marcus. They’re empty threats that’s all. I think I’ve placed too much emphasis on what the studio might do. They don’t really care about me; I’m a tiny cog in the whole business. They’re making noise that’s all, trying to frighten me into keeping everything the way they like it.”

“I would agree with that if it weren’t for what else I found out.” Marcus had stayed seated and Abby returned to her chair, slumped into it.

“What did you find out?”

“The studio is in deep financial trouble. They’ve got a problem with one of their executives as well as Spencer. The word is they’d love to cut Spencer loose, but they can’t afford it, so they’ve decided to go all out, to make him their poster boy. They’re here touting for investors for a spin-off of his TV show and a couple of films. They can’t afford even an ounce of scandal to be attached to him. You could blow their plans apart.”

“He’ll come through it. Look at Trump! It doesn’t seem to matter what these men do anymore, they get away with it if they’re loved enough.”

“It’s not just what he’s done, it’s the cover-ups by the studio and the executives. One of the girls he screwed didn’t want to go quietly. She accused him of promising her a bigger role on the show and then reneging on that when he’d had enough of her. She started to make a few noises and it was shut down instantly. She’s no longer working as an actress.”

“Who was that?” said Abby, her anger having subsided into numbness as she listened to Marcus.

“Jennifer Patrick, something like that.”

“I remember her vaguely. She was in a couple of episodes. Jesus.” Abby put her head in her hands. How blind she had been to all of this. All these women being abused by Spencer and the studio, facing the stark choice of being paid off or ruined. “They’d be better off getting rid of Spencer, surely? He must be costing them a fortune.”

“I considered that. At first I thought surely he’s not that big a deal, I mean I’ve never even heard of his show, but I’ve seen the figures and it is a huge money-making venture for them. There’s an entire industry around it all geared towards enriching the studio. If they got rid of him now it would ruin them.”

Abby swallowed the rest of her wine to lubricate her dry throat, poured herself another glass.

“You can’t expect me to go back to that? I can’t pretend to be with him, to love him, to attend events and be photographed with him, not now I know who he is. What message is that sending to these other women, to any woman? I can’t do it, Marcus.”

“You’re the innocent party, here, Abby. More innocent than any of these women who chose to get involved with him, even if it was under false expectations. Why should you be the one that gets destroyed? That’s not right.”

“What are you saying here? You want me to go back to America and my old life. Are we over? Am I just to forget you?” Tears spilled from Abby’s eyes as she said these words and she couldn’t help a sob escaping her. She’d expected to hear something bad about Spencer, was braced for it, but not this. She hadn’t expected this night to be the end of her relationship with Marcus.

“God, no, no.” Marcus jumped up, came across to where she was sitting and pulled her up out of the chair and into a hug. “I don’t want that, but we haven’t talked about the future, have we? We’ve avoided it.”

“We didn’t want to spoil what we had,” sniffed Abby.

“No, because we knew even without Spencer there were some difficult decisions to be made.”

“Yeah,” said Abby, clinging harder to Marcus, knowing he was right and still not wanting to face it.

“Shall we go sit on the sofa, get more comfortable?”

Marcus led her to the living area, sat on the sofa and pulled her towards him so his arm was around her and her head was resting against his chest. He stroked her hair, kissed her head.

“What do you want, really, without this latest problem?” murmured Abby into his chest.

“I was going to ask you to stay in London, to move in with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I know it’s selfish, but all I want is you. I thought you could make films over here, and we have good TV I hear.”

“Did you think about moving to New York?” Abby sat up a little so she could see him better. His eyes were glistening as though they had tears in them as well and the sight of that made her want to cry again but she forced the feelings back down.

“Erm, I’m selfish like I said, so no, I didn’t think about that. The business is international I suppose.”

“But most of your work is in Europe.”

“Yes, but there’s room for expansion. Maybe it would be a good time to conquer America.” He smiled down at her.

“It’s a big upheaval either way.”

“It is.”

“You have your family. Georgie. She’d be devastated.”

“She’d love coming over to New York.”

“It’s not the same, though.”

“Don’t worry about Georgie.” Marcus stroked her hair again, keeping up a steady soothing rhythm. Abby lay quietly, thinking things through.

“What if I got out ahead of this whole Spencer thing? What if I leaked his affairs to the press? The damage would be done then.”

“They’d know it was you.”

“Yes, but it would be too late by then.”

“I fear their retribution, Abby.”

He was right, and so was Spencer about a lot of things. Was this really coming down to a choice between her career or the man she loved, in this day and age? It was so unjust.

“Marcus, what I feel for you, it’s not like anything I’ve felt before, nothing like the early days with Spencer even. I love you so much. I don’t want to live a life without you.”

“I feel the same. You’ve changed my life; you’ve come here and you’ve just blown everything out of the water. I’ve never loved anyone before, never even come close, and all I want is to grab onto you and never let you go, but what kind of life will it be for you here? What will you do if you can’t make films?”

“I don’t know. Teach filmmaking, carry on making independents with you. There’s always someone who will distribute them.”

“You deserve more than that.”

“Life is about more than work, Marcus.”

“I know, but your work is your passion. What about the film you’re working on now? If you call their bluff and they destroy you what’s going to happen to Finding Amy?”

Abby’s sigh was long and resigned. This was an impossible situation they were in and it might not be fair, but it was reality.

“This is about more than us, and I cannot believe I’m saying that,” said Marcus gently.

“Yes, I know.”

They lay together on the sofa, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.

“We won’t be apart forever, though, will we, if I go back?”

“No. We’ll still be together. We’ll come up with a plan.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. You’ll always be my Red.”

He turned slightly so he could kiss her, and Abby pulled him around so he was on top of her, desperate suddenly to have him, to be as close to him as she could be. They removed their clothes frantically, casting them aside. Marcus groaned as he entered her. Abby wrapped every limb around him so tightly there was no room even for air between them.

“I love you. I love you,” she cried, her fingers gripping the curls on his head.

“It will be alright,” he grunted as he buried himself deep inside her. “We’re in this together.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Marcus confront Spencer.

Abby paced in front of Marcus’s huge living room windows, not noticing the view that had tempted her up here the first time they’d met. They were expecting Spencer any moment and Abby was anxious, mainly about what he was going to say when she told him what she'd decided. She wanted the meeting over with so she didn’t have to waste time on him when there were so few precious moments left with Marcus. She wasn’t keen on him coming to Marcus’s apartment because she considered it her sanctuary, but as Marcus had said, they couldn’t have this conversation in public, and they didn’t want him knowing where Abby lived, so there was no other choice.

“You okay?” said Marcus as he entered the living room having spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom.

Abby had half expected him to come out in his best suit, the one from the auction with its shiny James Bond lapels, but he was in green chinos and a light blue shirt, the top few buttons undone as always. His hair had been teased into perfect shape, though. She smiled at the effort he’d made, and the insecurity it betrayed. The cocksure man from the bar was still there, but the Marcus she’d come to love was much more layered than that, and more open than the closed, cold man of the morning after.

“I’m fine, a little nervous but okay. You look handsome.” She kissed his cheek as he put his arm around her.

“Aren’t I always,” he said with a sly grin.

“You are.”

It was Monday evening. Abby had endured a long day at work where it had been hard to concentrate on anything except her and Marcus and the decisions they’d made over the weekend. She’d tried to make their Sunday relaxing, had cooked the pot roast which Marcus had enjoyed, and they’d watched movies and talked about their time in Devon and made love, but it all had an air of finality about it. She didn’t want that, wanted their last few weeks to be fun and happy, but it was hard when you knew there were soon to be three and a half thousand miles between you.

She sighed.

“It’s okay,” said Marcus, squeezing her shoulder. His phone buzzed and he looked at it. “Game on,” he said.

Abby moved to the dining area while Marcus went to greet the elevator. She took up a position at the long oval table where she could see the elevator. Waited. The door finally pinged and Spencer stepped through. He was clad head to toe in tawny brown – slacks, jacket and fedora – the only colour being a white t-shirt. His hair had been trimmed since the last time she’d seen it and was tucked behind his ears beneath the hat. He looked like he’d come straight from a photoshoot.

“Nice place,” he said to Marcus as he was escorted to the dining area.

“Thanks,” replied Marcus. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Sure. Black, thanks.” Spencer took the seat Marcus gestured to. “You look gorgeous, Angel,” he said to Abby.

She caught Marcus’s surprised glance at her as he headed towards the kitchen to get the coffee.

“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” she said to Spencer.

“Habit of a lifetime, Abby. It’s hard to just switch it off, like a lot of things.”

Abby sighed loudly. Marcus returned with coffees, sat next to Abby, put his hand on top of hers where it rested on the table. She hooked her thumb over his little finger. Spencer raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“Thank you for coming,” said Marcus.

“I’m as keen to get this resolved as I’m sure you are.”

If it weren’t for you there’d be nothing to resolve, thought Abby. “Spencer, I want to have all the cards on the table, an honest discussion. I know that might be difficult for you as lying is your default, but—”

“Abby,” said Marcus gently, squeezing her hand.

“Fine,” she huffed. “This isn’t about wanting me back, is it? Tell me the truth.”

“I never wanted you to go. That was your decision.”

“A decision you effectively made for me by behaving the way you did, and I’m not just talking about being with the other women. The last year or so of our relationship you didn’t want to know me or spend time with me.”

“That’s not true. I was busy at the time, that’s all, and you weren’t exactly available either.”

“That’s an excuse. You were distant even when we were together.”

“I’m sorry for that,” he said, shuffling in his seat, because admitting guilt or any wrongdoing was something he’d never been comfortable with.

“You didn’t want me when we were together, and you don’t really want me now.”

“That’s not true. I would definitely have you back, Abby.”

“Under what terms?”

“Well, I’d hope we could come to an arrangement.”

“One where you have your women in California and me in New York?”

“You want cards on the table then fine. We both know monogamy is not in my DNA. Believe it or not, I didn’t like lying to you or cheating on you. If you’d been more open-minded I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

“Wow,” said Abby, shocked to hear the words actually come out of his mouth, but not surprised.

“You said you wanted the truth. That’s the truth. We can have the life we had before and this time you’ll know everything.”

“I see. So, I can have someone as well, can I, in this scenario?”

“Well—”

“I could have you and Marcus for example, or any other man. Marcus is very open-minded, aren’t you?”

“I am,” said Marcus confidently, though Abby could feel his tension in the way he was gripping her hand.

“I, erm, I don’t really see how that would work, Abby. I have such little time as it is to see you. Sometimes it’s at the drop of a hat you know that. It wouldn’t work if you were off with him when I got home.”

“So, you can have your cake and eat it but I have to settle for your crumbs, is that it?”

“Nice,” said Marcus, looking at her admiringly.

“I just want things to be the way they were. Why can’t you just come back and be as it was and then everyone is happy?”

“Everyone except me.”

“And me,” said Marcus.

Spencer folded his arms, sat back in his chair, staring at them.

Marcus cleared his throat, sat forward. “Mr Newman, we know why you really want Abby back, and while I’m sure you’d enjoy having women waiting all over the world for you, that’s not the reason. Your studio is in trouble, most of it caused by you, and because for some unfathomable reason they think you’re important to them, they have decided to stick with their investment and pin all their hopes on you. Throwing good money after bad in my opinion, but what do I know about running a film studio.”

Spencer’s eyes grew wide as he listened to Marcus speak. “How do you know about that?” he said.

“Because in between going to corporate dinners and sucking up to other boring businessmen like me I work hard, and I use my many valuable contacts. I know everything. We know everything, so let’s cut the crap and get down to business.”

Spencer bristled at Marcus’s words, glowered at them both, then he sighed, took off his hat and put it on the table.

“Whatever you know is probably true, yes. It doesn’t change anything, though. I’m a hostage to them and because of that so are you, Abby. I can’t change that, and I know that I haven’t been the best partner I could have been—”

Abby couldn’t help but let out a huffy laugh at that.

“—but I don’t want your career ruined, I honestly don’t.”

“I appreciate that,” said Abby, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt because she wanted him on side. She wasn’t at all convinced he wouldn’t throw her to the wolves if it benefited him, but now wasn’t the time.

“Thank you.”

“Marcus and I have been talking and we do have a proposal. We’re together, him and me. I love him, and I’m not going to leave him. Me and you are over, you need to understand that.”

“But that’s not gonna—”

“Let me finish. I want to finish my movie, Finding Amy. That’s my biggest priority. A lot of people have worked hard on it and invested in it and I’m not about to let them down. Maybe you’re playing me about the studio’s threats and maybe you’re not, I don’t know honestly, but knowing what we do I’m inclined to accept that they are desperate and that they will stop at nothing to prevent losing money and reputation.”

“I’m not lying to you about that.”

“Whatever, like you said we can’t change it, so we’re going to have to live with it for the time being. I have a couple of months left here and then I’m due back in the States. I’m willing to pretend that nothing has changed in return for you leaving me alone and accepting that I’m with Marcus now.”

Spencer screwed up his face. “I’ll need you for some things. There’s the studio Christmas event we always go to. You have to be on the red carpet with me else people will wonder where you are.”

“I’m not going to any events with you. We’re not going to see each other again if I can help it. You’ll just have to say I’m sick.” Abby leaned closer. “This isn’t forever. This is for the short term until I can find a way to get out of this. I have a commitment to the movie, and I have an episode of Law and Order I’m scheduled to do in March. That’s as far ahead as I’m looking with this. I’m going to do everything I can to figure out how to sever our relationship permanently and publicly, and I suggest you do the same. Talk to the studio, see what they might be willing to accept. I’m open-minded about whatever they have to say.”

She emphasised the last part as a retaliation for what he’d said earlier about her being closed to him having a one-sided polyamorous relationship.

“It’s not going to be easy, Abby.”

“All you need to do is play your game, convince people to invest and produce your movies and your spin-off and make the studio happy. Oh, and try and keep it in your pants a bit more, though I suspect that’s going to be the hardest part, no pun intended.”

Spencer sighed, then pushed his chair back and stood. “I don’t like this anymore than you do.”

“I find that hard to believe,” said Abby, standing along with Marcus. “There are no downsides for you to any of this that I can see. You have a studio that’s willing to bail you out of your many indiscretions, is putting money into making you even more famous and beloved, and now I’m your beard, as it were, a front so that you can carry on living life the way you want to. Seriously, Spencer, what’s not to like?”

There wasn’t much he could say in answer to that and he wisely chose not to address it. “I’ll tell the studio everything is fine,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Marcus escorted him to the elevator and Abby went into the kitchen, opened a bottle of champagne, poured two glasses. She handed one to a surprised Marcus when he returned.

“It’s not an ideal situation, but he’s out of my life, and that’s cause for celebration.”

“It is.” Marcus clinked his glass against hers, took a sip. “You were amazing. So confident and assured.”

“Yeah? Thanks, so were you. We did a good job I think.”

“I got a little turned on when you said that thing about the cake.”

Abby laughed. “Did you?”

“I did, and when you said, ‘let me finish’. Very sexy, very dominant.”

“You like being told what to do.”

“Sometimes I do, yes.” He set his champagne glass on the counter, put his arms around Abby’s waist instead, drew her to him. She could feel the truth in his words when he pressed against her. She stood on her tiptoes so she could whisper in his ear.

“In that case, I order you to call for Chinese food.”

Marcus pulled away, looking at her with mock hurt. “Wouldn’t you rather have something else?”

“I’ve told you what I want.”

“You said you weren’t hungry earlier when I asked.”

“I wasn’t then. Now, I’m starving.”

“This isn’t the kind of being told what to do I was imagining,” he said with a pout as he pulled out his phone.

Abby leaned in closer to him. “When my hunger is satisfied, I’ll tell you exactly what I want you to do to satisfy me in other ways.”

“Oh, well, in that case, let me call. What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

She left him in the kitchen scanning the menu, went into the living area and flopped onto the sofa. The conversation with Spencer had gone as well as expected. It was a relief knowing she wasn’t going to have to see him again. When she got back to New York she’d pack up what few belongings he had in their apartment and send them to him in California. Then she’d redecorate from top to bottom so there was no trace of him left.

When she got back to New York... She’d assumed she was going home throughout most of her relationship with Marcus, mainly because she was in denial about what they meant to each other. That had changed in Dorset, and now she wondered how she was going to go there without him. He could come over, of course but it wasn’t going to be the same. It’s not forever, she told herself, even though at present they had no idea how they were going to solve the problem.

“It’s going to be half an hour,” said Marcus as he sat beside her, handing her a refilled glass of champagne.

“Thank you.” Abby took a sip of her drink, stared out at the multi-coloured lights of the city.

“What’s wrong? Are you upset about what just happened with Spencer?”

“No, fuck him.”

“That’s definitely the attitude.”

“I was just thinking...” She trailed off, not knowing if she should say what she was really thinking, if it would be unfair to put Marcus on the spot like this.

“What were you thinking?”

She folded her legs beneath her, sat facing him. “I was wondering if it would be too painful if I were to move in here with you for the rest of my time in England?”

“Why would that be painful? I was going to ask you, remember.”

“I know, but won’t it be harder going from living together to living thousands of miles apart than if we were as we are now?”

“That’s going to be painful no matter what happens over the next few weeks.”

“I know.”

“I was kind of hoping we’d spend most of our spare time together anyway, so I don’t see that it will make a difference.”

“True.” She sat up straighter. “Ask me, then.”

“Is that an order?” Marcus said, grinning.

“It is.”

“Okay. I feel like I should have a speech prepared or something. Abby Griffin, will you make me the happiest man in London by moving in with me?”

“Happiest only in London?”

“British understatement.”

“Aah. Yes, Marcus Kane, I would be delighted to move in with you and make you the happiest man in London, nay the world.”

“The universe,” he said, moving closer to her.

“The universe,” she replied, holding his face and bringing his lips to hers for a kiss.

“All the universes,” he murmured against her lips, making her laugh.

They kissed passionately. Abby ran her fingers through his soft hair, left his lips and kissed his temples, and then his eyelids and down to his cheek.

“Remember that first night when you wanted to show me the view from here?” she whispered into his ear.

“I didn’t really want to show you the view,” he replied, kissing the side of her neck.

Abby let out a happy sigh. “I didn’t really want to see it.”

“Glad you did anyway.”

“Me too.”

Marcus was peeling her blouse from her shoulders when his phone buzzed.

“Damn!” he said, looking at the screen. “Food’s here.”

“Later, then,” said Abby, stroking his bottom lip with her thumb, kissing him softly there.

“I’m all yours.” He eased himself from her grip, headed to the elevator. “By the way, if you’re moving in, then you’ll have to come babysitting with me on Thursday.”

Abby nearly choked on the champagne she was sipping. “What?”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Marcus babysit the Sinclair kids.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Sinclair looked at Marcus and Abby with the terrified stare of someone who was about to leave his precious little red riding hoods in the care of the big bad wolf and his mate.

“We’ll be fine,” said Marcus. “Abby’s used to dealing with kids.”

“I’ve less experience than you! I don’t have siblings.”

“You’re working with a child right now.”

“She’s sixteen!”

“My kids are three, five and eight,” said Sinclair. “That’s not the same as sixteen.”

“You wanted us here.” Marcus took off his jacket, handed it to a much calmer Marina.

“They’ll be fine, Jacapo,” she said, taking Abby’s coat as well. “You look lovely, Abby. I love that blouse.”

“Oh, thank you. I got it in a sale at Neiman Marcus a few years ago. I’m always wearing it.”

“I would love to shop there. I’m always hoping they’ll open a store in London.”

“You must come visit me in New York and we’ll go.”

“That would be wonderful.”

Sinclair approached Marcus, took him by the elbow and steered him away from the women. “Let me show you a few essentials,” he said, heading towards the kitchen.

“I can work a coffee maker,” said Marcus, looking around the huge space that was all white marble and sparkly. It didn’t look as though three kids under eight ran around in here.

“I know that. I wanted a brief word about this New York business.”

“Oh, right, well like I told you on the phone it’s not for long.”

“How are you feeling about it, though?”

“Fine.”

Sinclair looked wryly at him.

“Honestly,” said Marcus. “I’ll miss her, obviously, but there’s video calls these days, and I’ll fly across whenever I can.”

“I think it will be harder than you realise. What are you going to do about getting rid of this Spencer guy for good?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’d appreciate a one to one with you at some point, pick your brains.”

“Anything you want. We’ll have to meet up more often, boys’ night out.”

“I won’t be that lonely,” said Marcus teasingly, although he was touched by Sinclair’s concern.

“We really need to go, darling,” said Marina, coming into the kitchen followed by Abby.

“Okay. Let’s reintroduce you to the kids and then...” Sinclair put his head in his hands, shook it. “What am I doing?”

“We’ll be fine, Sinclair, I promise,” said Abby, putting her hand on his arm to reassure him.

“I know, I know. This way.”

Sinclair led them to a room at the back of the house overlooking the garden. The two younger children were running around hitting each other with cushions and the older one, Luca, was sat on the floor in front of a large TV playing with a game controller. There was a lot of screaming and shouting. Marcus glanced at Abby, who pulled an uncertain face.

“Kids!” shouted Sinclair. Luca looked at him then turned back to the TV. The other two ignored him completely.

Sinclair moved to stand in front of the TV.

“Dad!” exclaimed Luca.

“Quiet down for a minute,” shouted Sinclair, and eventually the other two children stopped running around and looked at him.

“Mum and I are going out for a while, and Uncle Marcus is going to look after you. You remember him, don’t you?”

The kids all looked at Marcus as though he was an alien from another planet.

“No,” said the eldest.

“Yes, you do, Luca. This very nice lady with him is his friend, Abby. I want you to be good for them, okay?”

“Yes,” sighed Luca.

“Abby, this is Gino and the little one is Elena,” said Sinclair, grabbing hold of the smallest two and pulling them in front of him. “Say hello to Abby and Marcus.”

“Hello!” said Elena.

“Will you play with us?” said Gino.

“Of course,” replied Abby. Marcus groaned internally.

“Bed in one hour, no excuses,” said Sinclair, and then he and Marina seemed to disappear before Marcus’s eyes, and he was left alone with Abby and the three children.

“What do you want to play?” said Abby.

“Hide and seek!” shouted Gino, immediately running out of the room, followed by an unstable looking Elena.

“You’ll never find them,” said Luca. He looked around from his game, seemed to notice Abby for the first time. He got up, brushed his hands on his jeans, held one out to her. “I’m Luca. Pleased to meet you.”

Abby took his hand, shook it gently. “Abby. What are you playing?”

“Call of Duty. I’m a Command Sergeant Major,” he said proudly. “Do you play?”

“I’ve played a little. Not this game though.”

“I have another controller if you want to have a go.” Luca put a cushion on the floor next to him.

“Sure, okay.”

“I thought we were playing hide and seek with the kids?” said Marcus, wise to the game Luca was really playing unlike Abby seemed to be.

“It doesn’t take two of us. This will be fun.” Abby took a seat next to the boy, who turned and grinned at Marcus.

Cheeky bugger! “Fine. I’ll go look.”

The Sinclairs’ London town house had five floors including a basement, and Marcus became intimately familiar with all of it as he chased two giggling children around. Every time he thought he was getting close by the sound of their laughter he would then hear the pounding of feet as they fled to another room or floor.

“You’re supposed to stay in one place!” he said.

It hadn’t been like this when he’d been forced to play by Georgie. She’d always followed the rules, stayed hidden until he’d found her and then they’d swapped roles. Gino and Elena played by their own rules. Under normal circumstances Marcus would have admired that, but not when he was up and down five flights of stairs and the eldest child was somewhere below thinking up ways of getting closer to Abby.

He tried to remember what he’d been like at eight. Only interested in fossils, he thought, but boys today were more sophisticated, saw a lot of things they shouldn’t on TV and the internet. He wasn’t concerned for Abby or Luca, just didn’t want to have to deal with it.

At last he thought he’d got the kids trapped on the top floor. They were crafty for three and five, but Marcus was cunning too, and he decided to lay a trap.

“What’s that, Abby? You need me? I’ll be right down.” He stomped loudly on the top couple of stairs then sprinted back to hide beside a bookcase. He figured the kids would think he’d gone and come out of hiding.

Sure enough, the door at the end of the hallway squeaked open and two giggling voices emerged followed by two small bodies. Marcus could hear them walking across the creaking boards of the landing, and when he judged they were close he jumped out.

“Found you!” he said.

Both children screamed loudly, not in excitement as before but in sheer terror. The youngest, Elena, started crying.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” said Marcus.

“Aw, you said a bad word!” said Gino. “I’m going to tell my daddy.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry,” Marcus said, feeling like the worst human in the world and not knowing what to do about it. He approached Elena, who shrank away from him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said in a gentler voice.

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her thumb going into her mouth. Marcus felt something akin to what he felt for Georgie at the sight of the child’s woe.

“It’s okay.” He put his hand out as though he was approaching an unknown animal. Elena came towards him, allowed him to pat her dark curls. “Sorry,” said Marcus again.

She sniffed, then her thumb plopped out of her mouth and she smiled. Thank God, thought Marcus, who had started to think he’d broken her for the rest of the night.

“It’s your turn to hide,” said Gino.

“Okay. Close your eyes and count to a hundred.”

Marcus figured he’d make life easy on them after the upset he’d just caused by not going too far and making himself easy to find. He walked loudly to the room they’d just come out of, closed the door behind him with a bang. On the other side he could hear Gino counting from one to ten over and over again.

The room he was in was some kind of storage place full of old toys, boxes, a rocking horse and lots of other junk. He hid behind a couple of boxes, waited for them to come and find him.

“Ready or not!” came the high voice of Gino.

Marcus heard the pair laughing again. They were right outside the door, and he anticipated it opening, and them sneaking inside. Nothing like that happened. Instead, he heard a scraping noise, then something that sounded like a key turning in a lock.

“Gino?” he said, tentatively.

More sniggering, and then silence. Marcus waited a moment, and then he got up, went over to the door, tried the handle. It rattled but didn’t open. The little sods had locked it!

“Gino! Elena!” he yelled. “That’s enough now.”

Silence.

“Come on you two! Let me out!”

There was no sound, not even of giggles or whispers. They’d gone. Cheeky little buggers! He should have known how this night would go. Sinclair had been just as mischievous at Cambridge and the apples clearly hadn’t fallen far from the tree. He conveniently put to the back of his mind his own misdemeanours over the years, and the fact that he’d once done something very similar to this to Georgie, and he’d been thirty-two at the time, not three. All of that was irrelevant. He had to get out of here somehow. He’d call Abby, get her to come and let him out. It was humiliating, but better than leaving her alone with three children all night.

He felt in his trouser pocket for his mobile phone, realised when he couldn’t find it that it was in his jacket which was downstairs on the back of a kitchen chair. Bloody hell!

He had no idea how long it was before he heard footsteps on the landing outside. It felt like hours. He’d passed the time alternately plotting his revenge on the children and poking his nose in a few of the boxes hoping to find something juicy but it was just schoolbooks and teddy bears with stuffing hanging out.

“Gino, Elena, is that you?” he said, getting up off one of the boxes and heading to the door.

“No, it’s me.” The door opened and Abby was standing there, flanked by three sniggering children.

“Thank f—” Marcus swallowed the word he was going to say.

“What were you doing in here?” she said as he pushed past her, glaring at all the children as he passed.

“I was playing the game, but these two had a different idea about the rules.” He pointed menacingly at the youngsters who just laughed. “Didn’t you wonder where I was?”

“They told me you were in the bathroom when they came downstairs,” said Abby, a huge grin on her face. “I just figured you were, you know, taking your time as usual.”

“I don’t take a lot of time in the bathroom!”

Abby shrugged and smiled in a way that told him she thought he was a big fat liar.

“Well,” huffed Marcus. “It must surely be time for bed.”

“Aw, not yet, Uncle Marcus!” said Gino and Luca in unison.

“It’s a little early, Marcus,” said Abby.

“Fine, then we shall all go and sit quietly and read or something.”

He ushered the children downstairs to the playroom.

“Sit,” said Marcus, motioning to the sofa. The children sat on it, staring expectantly at him.

Abby slipped her arms around his waist, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re being a grump,” she whispered.

“They locked me in the attic!”

“They were having fun.”

“Hmm.” He looked at the children, who were smiling at him like beatific angels who had never done anything wrong. “Okay fine. One more game.”

There was a chorus of yesses from the children and then they were up and running around the room again.

“Calm down!” said Abby. “What do you want to play?”

“Twister!” said Luca, raising his eyebrows at Abby.

“No,” said Marcus firmly.

“Freeze,” said Gino. Elena nodded but Luca turned his nose up at the suggestion.

“What’s that?” said Abby.

“You play music and someone shouts out a position like on one leg or something and then when you stop the music you have to freeze in that position. The first one to move is out. It’s lame,” said Luca.

“It sounds like fun to me,” said Abby. “Let’s give it a go.”

There was no stereo that Marcus could find in the room but Luca did something to his iPad that made sound come out of the TV speakers and said he would be in control of the music so he wouldn’t have to participate in the actual activity.

That left Marcus, Abby, Gino and Elena to play the game. The first move was predicably to stand on one leg. Marcus managed it easily. Unsurprisingly, Elena was the first to fall but Abby gave her a pass because she wasn’t coordinated enough in the first place.

The first round Marcus was the winner purely because he was able to outstare everyone else even Abby who gave him a run for his money. The second round he was out first because he sneezed at the crucial moment. After that he resorted to not very subtle cheating, like saying something amusing just as he thought Luca was going to stop the music so that Abby laughed and moved. It was more fun than he’d thought it would be.

Halfway through one of the rounds Elena flopped onto the floor and didn’t get back up again.

“Oh, she’s fallen asleep just like that!” said Abby when she examined her.

“She does that,” said Luca. “She tries to say awake as long as possible and then she goes all at once.”

“We’d better put her to bed,” said Abby.

Gino was yawning too, so Marcus picked him up while Abby carried Elena and they went upstairs to their bedrooms. Elena was quickly put to bed because she was already in her pyjamas and still asleep. Abby kissed her forehead.

“Night, sweetheart,” she said.

“Can I have a story?” said Gino as Marcus carried him to his room.

“Yes, if you want. What would you like to read?”

“George’s Marvellous Medicine.”

“Okay.”

Marcus hunted for the Roald Dahl book amongst the shelves while Abby tucked Gino into bed. When he’d found it he sat in the chair next to the bed, opened the book. “Do you want me to read it or Abby?”

“You read,” said Gino.

Abby perched on the end of the bed while Marcus read to the boy the story of George and all the horrible concoctions he tried to make for his grandma. It didn’t take more than a couple of chapters for Gino to fall asleep. Marcus and Abby crept out of the room.

“I guess all the running around and excitement tired them both out,” whispered Abby as they headed down the stairs.

“Did you listen to that book? All the naughty things George got up to. No wonder Sinclair’s kids are feral.”

“They’re not feral, they’re just kids.”

“Maybe. One more to go and then it’s me and you time,” Marcus said, squeezing Abby’s arse as she reached the bottom stair ahead of him.

“We have to behave.”

“We can still be a little bit naughty. It’s the way around here.” Marcus grinned.

It was another hour before they got rid of a reluctant Luca, who’d spent most of the time questioning Abby about everything to do with her life and making films. Marcus and Abby flopped onto the sofa when he’d gone to bed. Marcus was exhausted. He put his arm around Abby and she leaned against him.

“That was a lot!” she said.

“I knew they were a handful because Sinclair’s always complaining, but Jesus! They locked me in the attic! I’m never going to hear the last of that from Sinclair.”

“Will you ever get over it?” Abby turned her head so she could look at him.

“No.” Marcus dipped his head to kiss her lips.

“You were good with them though, really. Have you ever wanted children?” said Abby.

Her question made something in Marcus’s stomach flip. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer, what she wanted to hear.

“Erm, I don’t know really. Haven’t given it a lot of thought. I’ve got Georgie, so...”

“She’s put you off has she, or satisfied the need?”

“She hasn’t put me off.” He didn’t think he’d ever felt a need to have children, not like an imperative. Had Abby? Why would she use such a word if not? He should ask he supposed, because the subject had been brought up, needed to be addressed if they were committing to each other for the rest of their lives. “Have you wanted them?”

She let out a long huffy breath. “Do you remember the friend I talked about at the auction, Callie she was called, the one who inspired me to make the movie Finding Amy?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“We grew up together, went to acting classes and all the auditions. I had a pretty happy childhood, carefree. I didn’t really think deeply about a lot of things, not back then. I just got on with what I wanted to do, which was act and mess around. Callie didn’t have a great childhood and she really struggled with her sexuality. She didn’t want to stand out, didn’t want to be different, but she had these really intense feelings. I, erm... I was the subject of her affections, you know?”

“I see. I can understand that. You’re radiant. I bet you were even then.”

“You’re sweet. I didn’t really understand it at the time because I didn’t have any confusions myself other than normal ones of growing up. I was okay with it in the sense that her being gay wasn’t an issue for me, but I had to reject her when she made a move one day because I didn’t feel that way about her. I loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her, I wasn’t attracted to her in that way.”

“Did she take it badly?”

“It was awkward for a while more than anything else. She didn’t kill herself because of me. Well, I guess maybe there was an element of it in her reasoning and I did feel guilty for a long time, but it was a combination of a lot of things. The thing I felt most when she died was that I’d let her down, not over her pass at me but about not understanding her feelings and what she was going through, not paying enough attention. I was full of myself, planning my future.”

“That’s natural. You were a teenager.”

“Yeah, but I guess it kind of drove me in my career afterwards. I’ve done a lot of movies about people who feel out of place and don’t fit in or are persecuted for who they are and I’ve thought a lot about the subject. I kind of decided that I wasn’t suited to having children, that I wasn’t capable of bringing someone into the world and raising them properly. I was too selfish, didn’t see what other people were going through, thought about my career too much. I didn’t want to have a child and for them to go through pain in their life like Callie did.”

Not for the first time Marcus felt inadequate compared with Abby. He really hadn’t given children or any kind of family much thought at all. Here was Abby, a person who thought deeply and was empathetic and caring, and she didn’t think she was good enough to be a mother. What did that make him?

“You know how they say that people who want power are the last ones who should have it, and those that don’t want it make the best leaders?” he said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“Maybe it’s the same for being a parent. If you don’t think you’re good enough maybe that means you would be a great parent, because you would have thought about it and considered it and you’d have a lot of wisdom and compassion to bring to the task.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes. You’re great with Georgie. She adores you.”

Abby nestled against him, and Marcus squeezed her shoulder.

“Thank you for that,” she said.

They sat quietly. It wasn’t uncomfortable but Marcus felt something in the air, questions still unasked. He wasn’t sure if he should ask them because that would inevitably mean having to have an answer himself and he didn’t know if what he was thinking was the right thing, and what Abby would make of it. She would be thirty-nine in a few months. His own mother had Georgie when she was nearly a decade older, but it had been a fraught time. He could remember the hospital tests and the concerns over birth defects, as they’d termed them back then, that were talked about in hushed tones because even though he was in his late twenties his parents hadn’t deemed it worth discussing with him.

“Do you feel differently now?” he said, deciding to get it over with.

Abby sat up, angled herself to be able to look him in the eye. “Because time’s running out you mean?”

“There’s that, but also you’re in a new relationship. We haven’t talked about this before. I don’t know what you want.”

“Would you be devastated if I said I didn’t want them?”

“No,” said Marcus, because that was the truth, “but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want them if you did.”

“You’d have kids because I wanted to?”

“No, not just because you wanted to. It’s hard to explain. If you wanted us to have a family, I would be happy having a family with you. I would want those children. I believe I would love the kids that we’d made together. I don’t feel it like a desperate need deep inside, so if you didn’t want a family, I would be happy with that too.”

She smiled, which gave him some relief. “That’s beautifully honest, Marcus. I appreciate that, and I understand perfectly.” She reached across and stroked his face. “I really love you, you know.”

“I really love you.”

“Let’s revisit this in a few months when things are more settled.”

“That’s fine with me.” He leaned across and kissed her and they were getting into the kiss when a small voice interrupted them.

“Uncle Marcus I can’t sleep.”

Marcus looked over the back of the sofa to see Gino standing watching them, his teddy bear gripped in his hand.

“Okay. Come and sit with me and Abby for a minute, and then it’s back to bed.”

“Yes!” Gino ran around the sofa, insinuated himself between them.

“Why can’t you sleep?” asked Marcus.

“I was thinking about George and his medicine.”

“I see. Do you think he’s naughty making those things for his granny?”

“No, I want to make some.”

“I bet you do.”

Marcus looked at Abby over Gino’s head, and smiled. Abby grinned in return.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night of Abby's wrap party, and Georgie is visiting, but things don't go according to plan.

“Wow, don’t you look awesome!” Abby clapped appreciatively as Georgie did a twirl around the living room. The girl had arrived earlier that day and they’d taken Marcus’s car to Carnaby Street where Abby had bought her a green corduroy dress and pink t-shirt from Lazy Oaf and some cowboy boots from Red Wing.

“What do you think?” said Georgie, pirouetting in front of Marcus.

“It’s a bit modern,” he replied, screwing up his long nose.

“Marcus, there’s gonna be like arty types and super cool people at the wrap party. I don’t want to look like a country bumpkin from Dorset.”

“You are a country bumpkin from Dorset.”

“You will be the coolest person there,” said Abby, thumping Marcus on the arm.

It was a week after she’d moved in with Marcus and the night of the wrap party for Finding Amy. Marcus had automatically been invited as one of the movie’s major investors and he was taking Georgie as his plus one. Abby was ostensibly attending alone. She and Marcus were going in separate cars with him and Georgie arriving before her. It was ridiculous but there was nothing else they could do. At least her two favourite people in the world would be there, sharing the experience with her, and as long as she and Marcus kept their hands off each other it should be okay.

She left Georgie in the living room and went to get dressed in the bedroom she’d used last time Georgie had stayed over, which was now her dressing room. The party was smart casual in terms of dress and she’d chosen skinny black jeans and a chiffon grey blouse. When she returned to the living room Marcus came out of his bedroom a moment later and he too was in black and grey. Abby smiled as she realised they mirrored each other. God, were they morphing into each other like couples did?

“You look beautiful,” said Marcus, kissing her cheek.

“We match!”

“We’re in sync that’s all.”

Georgie made retching noises from the sofa.

“Quiet, pipsqueak, or you can stay here and watch Celebrity Dancing or whatever that show is instead of coming with us,” Marcus said with fake sincerity.

“I’m glad you guys are properly together finally but there’s an impressionable teenager in the room,” she said, pulling a face at Marcus.

“You’d better shut your eyes and ears a minute then because I’ve got something for Abby and I’m hopeful of getting an appreciative kiss in return.”

On the sofa, Georgie put her hands over her eyes but Abby could see her peeking through them.

“What have you got for me?” she said to Marcus.

“Something that kind of reminds me of the first time we met. I know you can’t wear that dress to the party, which is probably just as well, but I thought something in the colour might be nice.”

He disappeared into his bedroom again, came out with a long bag from Fendi. Inside was a red woollen coat with a belt that cinched Abby’s waist perfectly when she tied it.

“Oh, wow, it’s gorgeous,” she said as she twirled like Georgie had earlier.

“You look so pretty, Abby,” said Georgie, who had taken her hands from her eyes to stare at Abby.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Marcus put his arm around her, his hand in the small of her back. He leaned in, his lips against her ear. “My Red,” he whispered, kissing her softly.

Warm shivers ran through Abby and she took a shuddery breath. “Thank you,” she said, letting her lips graze the side of his cheek.

“Guys, seriously!” complained Georgie from the sofa.

“It’s a good job she’s here,” whispered Abby, “because I don’t think we’d make it to the party.”

“Damn!” said Marcus with a wry smile.

“Okay!” said Abby, moving away from him. “Time for us all to go, I think.”

The venue for the party was the old ballroom of one of Sinclair’s hotels in central London, which Marcus had steered Raven towards when he’d discussed budgets with her as part of his investment role in the movie’s production. He said the staff would be discreet and reliable and he’d got a good discount. Abby arrived a few minutes after Marcus and Georgie, having sat in the car and waited. There was no one outside to see her, because it wasn’t a big, star-studded movie and the night was cold. It was best to be prudent, though. If anything went wrong with her arrangement with her ex it wouldn’t be because of her.

Inside she was met by a smiling Raven.

“Hey, Abby! Wow, love this coat,” she said as Abby handed it to her.

“Thank you. Is everyone here?”

“Yeah, pretty much. That investment guy, Marcus Kane, just arrived with his sister. God, he’s hot. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Abby murmured as they entered the ballroom.

“Great, well I might turn on the old Raven charm later, see where I get. Last time I’ll see everyone anyway, right, so no harm in trying.”

“Good luck!” said Abby, feeling both amused and guilty.

She walked around the room, making sure she had a conversation with everyone. As often at a wrap party there was a mixed atmosphere. It was always a joy to complete a project and take pride in a job well done, but sad because people you’d practically lived with for six months and got to know well would soon be scattered to the four winds. Abby liked to use the same people when at all possible, but this crew had been a mixture of old and new because of the London base.

The food was a buffet of hot vegetarian food including chilli and pasta bake and she took the opportunity of it opening and everyone rushing towards it to find Marcus and Georgie. They were talking to Emma, who played Amy.

“Hey guys,” she said, giving Emma a hug and a kiss. “You having fun?”

“It’s really cool,” said Georgie. “Emma’s been telling me all about how she got into acting and I really think it’s something I want to do.”

“I’m sure Emma told you it’s a lot of hard work and a lot of heartbreak when you don’t get a part.”

“Yeah, but she’s done it and you have so I’m like sure I could.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” said Marcus.

“Do you want to get some food?” said Emma to Georgie, and the pair rushed off leaving Marcus and Abby alone.

“Are you okay? Not too bored?” It was tempting to put an arm around Marcus, press close to him, but Abby maintained a distance like she had with everyone else she’d talked to. Friendly but professional, that was the key.

“I’m fine. That Raven girl collared me earlier. I think she was trying to ask me out.”

“Oh, yeah? She thinks you’re hot.”

“Does she?” Marcus rubbed his chin, looked around the room. “Hmmm.”

“Idiot,” said Abby, grinning. It was impossible not to smile when she was around him, and she was glad she had her back to most of the rest of the room.

“As though anyone could tempt me from you,” he murmured.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what? Telling you how sexy you are, how much I want you right now.”

“Yes, that!”

“It’s true, though. I think we should find an empty room, see if I can get my hand inside those skinny jeans you’re wearing.”

His words made Abby’s pulse throb and heat bloom on her cheeks. “I’m going to leave now.”

“I’m going to find a room.”

“No, you’re not!”

“I am.”

“Georgie...”

“She’ll be fine with Emma.”

“Marcus Kane!” Abby gave him a look meant to deter him, but he simply smirked in return. She left before he could get her into trouble.

Half an hour later a waiter came up to her as she was talking to one of the camera crew and gave her an envelope. She excused herself, went to stand in a quiet spot near the bar to open it. It was a note in Marcus’s neat handwriting telling her to meet him in room 104. You’re not going, she said to herself while looking around the ballroom. Georgie was dancing with Emma and a group of the younger production assistants. Everyone else was talking and seemed to be having a good time. God damn you, Marcus!

She slipped the note in the pocket of her jeans, walked slowly to the open doors of the ballroom. No one seemed to notice her leave. Outside she found a member of hotel staff, asked to be directed to room 104. It was on the same floor, further along the corridor from the ballroom. She hesitated outside for a moment, knowing what was waiting for her, knowing she shouldn’t give in, but as always he was impossible to resist. She opened the door, went inside.

The room was a small dining room and Marcus was standing at the far side of it, examining a painting on the wall. He turned when he heard the door shut.

“I knew you couldn’t resist,” he said, grinning at her.

“You are truly evil.”

“You must like that, because here you are.” He crossed towards her, reached behind and turned a catch on the door. “No one will know,” he said.

“We can’t be long,” Abby said, already short of breath from the anticipation.

“We won’t be.”

It was magnetic, their attraction, something Abby was genuinely unable to resist. He only had to put a hand on her arm or press his lips to hers and she was on fire. They kissed passionately, her fingers wrapped in his hair, his trying to undo the button on her skinny jeans. He had to pull her pants down her thighs in the end to get his hand inside, and then his fingers were stroking her, round and round, up and down, pressing inside, curling.

Abby groaned.

“So wet, so hot,” Marcus whispered into her ear.

It didn’t take long for her to pulse beneath his touch.

“God,” she said, puffing out a long, hot breath.

“I am,” he replied, making her laugh.

“What about you?” she said, stroking the bulge in his pants.

“I’m actually really satisfied.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“No, but I’ll wait. The anticipation will be worth it later.” He unlocked the door and walked out, leaving Abby with her underwear and jeans still halfway down her thighs.

“God, that man!” she said as she tidied herself up. She waited a couple of minutes before leaving the room. There was no one outside and she made it back to the ballroom undetected. Marcus had resumed his position at the back of the room and she glanced at him as she stood at the bar. He stared at her and she had to look away because her cheeks were already burning from their earlier activity.

Later in the evening she stood on a small stage and delivered her closing speech, thanking the cast and crew and reliving some of the funnier moments from the last few months. Raven and her team handed out the wrap presents she and Abby had ordered.

“And that’s a wrap on Finding Amy,” she said. “Thank you so much, it’s been a wonderful journey and I’m gonna miss you all, but hopefully we’ll work together again real soon.”

She went around the room again, getting tearful hugs from everyone, until there was Raven left. They smiled at each other.

“You’re heading back to the States in a couple of days, right?” she said as she hugged the girl.

“Yeah, just got a few things to finish off here and then it’s back to sunny California. I’ve enjoyed being in Britain but I’m ready for some sun again!”

“New York is pretty much the same as here, so I won’t notice the difference,” laughed Abby.

“Oh, that’s true. I don’t know how you live there in winter.”

“You get used to it.”

“When are you heading back to New York?” asked Raven.

“I have five weeks left here, and then I’m back.”

“Christmas in New York, huh.”

“Yes.”

“What?” came a small voice from behind Abby.

She turned to see Georgie standing there, a look of surprise on her face that turned to upset because her bottom lip started to tremble. Shit! They hadn’t told her yet about Abby leaving. She’d been so excited about them moving in together and their whole plan of telling her at least part of the truth had fallen apart.

“Oh, sweetheart,” said Abby.

“You’re going back to New York? But I thought—”

“Let’s go and talk about this,” interrupted Abby quickly. She wanted to comfort the girl but she also didn’t want Raven to wonder why she was so upset about her leaving. God, this was a mess.

“Is everything okay?” said Raven, frowning.

“Yes. She’s formed an attachment, that’s all. It’s fine,” said Abby, giving Raven a quick hug and kiss.

When she turned, Georgie had gone. She scanned the room, saw her with Marcus, could hear them arguing. She hurried over.

“Georgie, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you going back to New York? Why are you leaving us?” she cried.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I heard you tell that Raven. You’re going in a few weeks. You’ll be there for Christmas. I thought you’d be with us for Christmas.”

She was upset and angry and her voice was raised and causing people to look. Abby swapped an anxious look with Marcus.

“Come on, pipsqueak,” he said. “We need to talk about this at home.” He tried to put his arm around her but she shrugged him off.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Georgie, go home with Marcus and I’ll be right behind you. We’ll talk about it then.”

“It’s not your home!”

“Okay,” said Marcus. “Let’s go.” He had to push her to get her moving, and then she was storming ahead of him. He looked despairingly at Abby as he followed her but neither of them spoke because they didn’t want to draw any further attention to the situation.

“What’s wrong with Georgie?” said Emma, suddenly appearing at Abby’s side.

“She’s overexcited that’s all. She’ll be fine.”

She couldn’t leave straight away because people wanted to say goodbye and it was the last time she’d see most of them so it was a lot of hugs and reminiscences that Abby didn’t have the heart to cut short. It was over half an hour before she managed to leave without anyone thinking it odd.

She stepped out of the elevator into Marcus’s apartment with trepidation. Dealing with teenage angst wasn’t something she had much experience with, and she felt enormously guilty that Georgie had found out in that way.

Marcus was in the living room when she entered, but there was no sign of the girl.

“Sorry, I couldn’t get away. Where’s Georgie?”

“In her room. I tried to talk to her and explain some of it but she stormed off and slammed the door. She won’t come out."

“I should talk to her.”

Abby went to Georgie’s room, knocked on the door. “Georgie, it’s Abby. Can I talk to you?”

“Go away!”

Abby tried the door, but it was locked. “Please, sweetheart. Let me explain.”

Silence followed. She stood outside the door for a couple of minutes, waiting to see if Georgie would relent, but it became clear she wasn’t going to. Abby returned to the living room.

“Better to leave her to cry it out of her system,” said Marcus, taking her coat off her and then handing her a glass of wine. “I’m talking from experience.”

“I’m so sorry she found out like that. She overheard me talking to Raven about going back to New York and that was that.”

“It’s not your fault. We should have told her earlier like we planned.”

“I have a feeling that would have ruined her night anyway.”

“You’re probably right.”

They sat on the sofa together, drinking their wine.

“Did you enjoy the party other than that?” asked Marcus, swinging Abby’s legs around so they were atop his.

“I did. They’re always kind of bittersweet because you know you’re not going to see people again.”

“That must be so difficult in your business, building up these intense short-term relationships with people and then suddenly it’s all over.”

“It is, but quite a few of them you get to work with again, especially if they’re good, and if they’re not good, then it’s not a huge loss.”

They watched the second half of a movie on TV then went to bed. Abby wasn’t in the mood for fooling around although she did offer to return the favour Marcus had given her earlier. He asked for a rain check as she’d suspected he would. They snuggled together instead, enjoying the comfort of each other’s arms while they could.

\--- 

It was still dark when the ringing of a phone woke Abby.

“Yes?” said Marcus, little more than a voice in the blackness. “What?” His silhouette sat up, one hand rubbing his eye. “What’s she doing down there?”

A brief silence, then: “Yes, of course. Give me a moment.”

“What’s going on?” said Abby, fully awake now.

“Georgie’s in the lobby with the concierge.” Marcus switched the bedside light on, making Abby blink.

“What’s she doing there?”

“No idea.” He sighed. “I’ll go and get her.”

Abby got dressed while he was gone, pulling on a pair of blue sweats and a grey t-shirt. She was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee when the elevator door opened and Georgie marched out followed by an exasperated Marcus.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he said.

“I HATE you! I hate you both!” she cried, and she pushed past Abby and went into her room, slamming the door behind her.

“Georgina!” shouted Marcus.

“What’s that about?” said Abby.

Marcus put a backpack on the counter. “She was trying to get home to Dorset,” he said, running his hand through his hair obsessively.

“Why?”

“It’s about last night I suppose but she won’t talk except to say that she hates us.”

“I’ll go and talk to her.” Abby put a mug of coffee in front of Marcus. “Drink this.”

“You don’t have to do that, Abby. She’s my responsibility.”

“No, she’s our responsibility, and I’m the problem after all. Go and sit down, drink some coffee.”

She left him in the kitchen, went to Georgie’s room and knocked on the door.

“Georgie, may I come in?”

“Go away,” came the reply like it had the night before.

Abby tried the door, found it unlocked this time. She pushed it open gently. Georgie was lying face down on her bed, small fists clenched. Abby sat on the end of the bed.

“Do you want to talk about what’s upsetting you?”

No reply.

“Is it because I’m going back to New York?”

Still no reply, but a lot of sniffing.

“I’d love for us to talk about it. I want to know how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t want you to go,” she sobbed.

“I don’t want to go either.”

Georgie turned, looked up at Abby with red-rimmed tearful eyes. “Then why are you?”

“Because it’s for the best for the time being.”

“How can it be?”

“You have to trust me that it is.”

Georgie sighed. “I thought you wanted to talk about it.”

“I do.”

“But I just have to trust you. That’s what my dad says when he doesn’t want to talk to me because he thinks I’m just a stupid kid who won’t understand.” She sat up straighter, folded her arms in front of her chest and pouted.

Her words stung, and Abby felt the pain like a tug on a wire that ran all the way through her life, back to when she was a child not much older than Georgie and she’d not been as open and as good a friend as she could have been.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. You deserve to know the truth.” She settled on the bed, tucked her legs beneath her. “You know, I think, that I had a boyfriend in America, before I met Marcus?”

“Yes, that guy from the TV show.”

“That’s right. Well, we weren’t together even though the article you read said we were. He treated me very badly and I came here not just to make the movie but to get away from all of that. I didn’t expect to meet your brother and fall in love with him, that was just a wonderful gift.”

“You’ve left him now, right, that guy?”

“I have, but the thing is there is a lot of money and things tangled up with our relationship. It’s hard to explain and that’s not because I think you’re too young, it just is. The people he works for want him to keep an image that he has, and I’m part of that.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It is, you’re right.”

“So what are you saying, you have to pretend to be with him and not Marcus?”

“For a short while, yes.”

The look of incredulity on Georgie’s face made Abby want to cry. She could see the ridiculousness of the situation through the girl’s eyes, but there was nothing to be done. She was doing the right thing, she still believed that, however stupid it seemed.

“I don’t get it. You belong with Marcus. He needs you. He was horrible before he met you.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t horrible. He loves you very much.”

“He was! He was miserable all the time.”

“I wasn’t very happy before I met Marcus either, but Georgie sometimes there are things that are more important than what we want as individuals. If I don’t do what Spencer’s bosses want for now, then there will be consequences not just for me but for a lot of people I care about. I came here to make Finding Amy. A lot of really good, talented people have worked on it, and they deserve to have their hard work seen and recognised.”

She took hold of Georgie’s hands, stroked the backs of them gently with her thumbs. “When I was about your age I had a friend, CeCe, whom I loved very much. She was troubled in the same way as Amy, and she very sadly thought she had no way out like Amy, do you understand what I mean?”

“You mean she killed herself?”

“Yes, when she was the same age as Amy, and that’s the main reason I wanted to make this movie. When I read the book I was so moved by the story, and I knew I had to bring it to a wider audience, so people can know and understand what young people like CeCe and Amy go through. I have to see this through for them and for everyone who has worked on it. I want to, and if that means that for a while I have to put my happiness on hold then I am prepared to do that, and Marcus supports me, but I want you to know that I love him so much, and he makes me ridiculously happy even when he’s being a miserable grump.”

Georgie laughed. “He’s not as grumpy now, although he was when he came and got me.”

“He was confused and worried about you that’s all. He loves you loads and so do I. This isn’t forever. It’s just for a short time and then we will be together properly.”

Georgie took in a long, deep breath, let it out slowly. “Okay,” she said, to Abby’s relief.

“I hope you’re going to come to New York to see me. I was thinking we could get rid of Marcus and have a girlie day me and you. I’ll take you to my favourite pizzeria, remember when I told you about that the first day we met?”

“Yeah, with the pepperoni.”

“That’s right. We’ll have lunch there and we’ll go shopping and then in the afternoon we’ll have mocktails at the Mandarin Oriental which has amazing views. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” Georgie’s face brightened as her smile grew wide.

“Yes.”

“Can we go up the Empire State Building?”

“We can, although I expect Marcus will want to be with us for that.”

“Yeah we can do things with him and then things just me and you.”

“I would love that so much.”

“I’m sorry I said I hate you. I don’t hate you. I love you.”

“Oh sweetheart, I know.” Abby held out her arms and Georgie crawled into them. She stroked her hair, kissed her head. “I love you too. I think you’re the most beautiful, intelligent, funny young woman I know. You have brightened up my life in ways I can’t even tell you. We will video call all the time, okay. You’ll have to show me how to do it.”

“I will.”

“Okay, well in the meantime we still have time for fun here in England, and I think you need to go and speak to your brother, don’t you?”

Georgie screwed up her face but nodded. “’Kay.”

Abby took her hand and led her to the kitchen where Marcus was stirring something in a bowl.

“You feeling better?” he said to Georgie.

“Yeah. Sorry about before.”

“Please don’t run away like that, Georgie. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” she sniffed.

Marcus held his arms out and she went to him, hugged him tight.

“I love you, you idiot,” he said, kissing her head.

“I love you too, I just want you and Abby to be happy.”

“We are. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and this is just temporary. We’ve got lots of things to look forward to.”

“Yeah. We’re going up the Empire State Building,” she said, pulling away from him and going to the fridge, bringing out a carton of orange juice.

“We are?”

“Yep, and me and Abby are having special drinks but you’re not allowed with us.” She poured the juice, left the carton on the counter.

“I see. What went on in there? Have you made plans for world domination too?”

“Pretty much.” Georgie smirked at him, then settled on a stool. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes. You want one?”

“With chocolate sauce?”

“For breakfast?”

She nodded, turning her large dark eyes on him over the rim of her glass, and Abby watched, smiling, as Marcus rolled his eyes and made various sounds of dissatisfaction, before going to the cupboard and putting a bottle of sauce in front of Georgie.

“Disgusting stuff,” he said, pouring his batter into a hot pan.

“One might ask why you have a bottle if it’s so disgusting,” said Abby.

“For madam here,” replied Marcus, flipping the pancake.

“There’s a lot less in than when I was last here,” said Georgie, examining the bottle.

“Shut up and eat your pancake.” Marcus flipped it onto a plate, put it in front of her with a smile.

A happier atmosphere settled over them as they ate breakfast together. They would survive this because they had each other, Abby thought, and the realisation made the coming time apart seem more bearable.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of Abby's stay in England is nigh.

The next few weeks passed far too quickly. Abby spent long hours in the studio at the BBC working with the rest of her postproduction crew to get as much done on the movie as they could before she returned to New York. The rest of the time she spent with Marcus. They rarely went out, preferring to be alone in the apartment, most of the time in bed. It was fun, that part of it, but hanging over them like a huge swinging pendulum was the fact of her leaving. It swung faster and faster until there was only a week left, and it was impossible to ignore it any longer.

“Georgie called again,” said Marcus as they sat at the dining table eating fish and chips he’d got from a nearby takeout. Abby was trying to work her way through as many classic British dishes as she could before she left.

“Damn, I’m sorry I missed her. Is it too late to call back?” Abby looked at the clock which said nine fifteen. She wasn’t sure if the girl would be in bed or not.

“She didn’t want to talk to you anyway, she wanted me.”

“Oh, what did she want?”

“To beg me to take you to Dorset before you leave.”

“Ah.”

Georgie had stayed again with them for a couple of days the previous week and it had been harrowing for her and for Abby having to say goodbye. Abby had promised she could come and visit in the New Year but she supposed a few weeks seemed like an eternity to a teenager. It wasn’t much longer than they’d spent apart here, but it was one thing to be three hours away by train and another to be separated by an ocean.

“Maybe we should go,” said Abby, to which Marcus grimaced.

“I want to spend the rest of our time just me and you. We’re going to be separated long enough as it is.”

“I know, but we’ve got the rest of our lives, Marcus. She’s a young girl, and it’s sweet that she wants to spend time with us, plus it will be nice to see your family again.”

He made a noise of disgust. “There’s nothing nice about my family.”

“Oh, now you’re just being an old grump. I think a change of scenery before I go would be nice.”

“Can you even get the time off?” Marcus stabbed a chip with his fork and chewed it aggressively.

“I was going to spend the last couple of days packing and getting ready anyway. I could do that earlier and we could go down on Saturday morning and then I’ll fly out Sunday afternoon.”

“You mean spend our last night together there, in Dorset?”

“Yes, why not?”

“Because I have plans!”

“I know what you have plans for,” she said soothingly. “We can still do plenty of that. It didn’t stop us last time, did it?”

“Last time she nearly caught us!”

“We’ll put a chair against the door. Come on, it will be fun. We’ve been holed up here for a month now. Let’s get some fresh sea air. I promise I’ll make sure we have lots of alone time.” She stroked his arm with her fingertips, making the hairs rise.

“It’s not just that, it’s...” He sighed. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Okay then. I suppose I can adapt.” He didn’t look happy and Abby could understand why. For a moment she wondered if she was doing the right thing, but they’d still be together, and they didn’t have to spend every moment with his family.

“Thank you. This will be fun!” She leaned across the table to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll be expecting something special as reward,” he said, finally allowing a slight smile to grace his handsome face.

“Maybe you should pack the wand then.” She winked at him, then grabbed her phone so she could video call Georgie.

“Abby!” the girl said excitedly when she saw her face.

“Hey sweetheart! Guess who’s coming to Dorset?”

She turned the phone towards Marcus so he could see Georgie’s happy screams.

“You’d better behave yourself,” he muttered, but the girl was shouting too loud to hear him.

\---

Marcus got an early start on the Saturday for the drive down to Dorset. His sporty Jaguar was groaning with the weight of Abby’s luggage and the picture she’d bought in Aldeburgh. It was a misty day and he knew it would be cold in the house because it was large and draughty. Abby was mad wanting to come here. Last time she’d visited, the weather had been clear and warm; she had no idea what the south coast in late November could be like.

He’d been annoyed when she’d insisted on spending their last days with his family. He wanted her all to himself and he didn’t think that was selfish of him. Well, it was, but understandably so, surely? He’d reflected on it since, and thought there were two possible reasons why Abby wanted to go.

One was that it might make their parting easier, with his family acting as a kind of buffer to soften the blow. The second was that she genuinely felt at home there and wanted to see the place for the last time in a while. Whether it was either of those or something else entirely, he couldn’t deny her what she wanted to do, and he certainly wasn’t about to make their last days miserable by being a grump about it. He’d had his moment, and then he’d sucked it up, and they’d enjoyed a wonderful few days together since.

Georgie came running out the moment Marcus pulled up in front of the house.

“I’ve been watching for you!” she said, ignoring Marcus and running straight to Abby.

“Hey sweetheart,” said Abby, wrapping Georgie in a warm hug.

“Let’s get inside, it’s freezing,” said Marcus.

The girls went ahead leaving him to unload all Abby’s luggage and bring it into the hall. He had half a mind to leave it in the car but decided he was fond of his private parts and hoped to put them to good use this weekend so he’d better behave himself. Inside he was greeted by the aroma of baking scones and his spirits lifted.

He found Abby and Georgie in the smaller sitting room along with his mother and father. The fire had been lit so the room was warm at least. The house had central heating, but it was ancient, and the gaps in the walls and floors seemed happy to let all the cold air in but not circulate any warm air.

“This is a treat, Marcus,” said his mother. “Twice in as many months. We’re honoured.”

“You can blame your daughter and Abby,” he said, giving her a sarcastic smile.

Mrs Prentice arrived to announce lunch was prepared. Marcus received a nod of his head from his father by way of greeting as they moved to the kitchen for soup and scones.

Afterwards, Marcus took his and Abby’s overnight bags up to his room. At least there was no need to pretend they weren’t together this time, no sneaking around to be done, although he’d enjoyed her turning up at his door in those red panties, he couldn’t deny it. Vincent was lying on his bed, and he looked askance at Marcus when he dumped the bags next to him.

“Off!” he said, but the dog simply stared at him. “Vincent!” he said, more menacingly. Still nothing.

“He’s more stubborn than you.”

Marcus turned to see Abby standing in the doorway.

“He is. You coming in?”

“I don’t know if I should. Vincent’s getting excited.”

Marcus looked at the dog who was looking at Abby his tail wagging lazily.

“I know how he feels,” he said, grinning at her.

“Is your tail wagging?” she said, shutting the door and walking slowly towards him.

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

“What an offer!”

Marcus tried to shove Vincent off the bed, but the most he could do was move him a few centimetres towards the far edge. Abby was right in front of him now, and he lay on the bed, pulled her on top of him.

“I think Vincent likes to watch,” he murmured as she put her hand between them, cupped his growing erection.

“Mmm. He does.”

They kissed, and Marcus had his hands on her back, pulling her blouse out of her jeans when the door sprung open. He and Abby both jumped, looked around to see Georgie standing there.

“Bloody hell, Georgina!” shouted Marcus. Abby sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed. Marcus pushed himself into a sitting position, his hands in his lap to hide his arousal. Vincent grunted.

“Sorry!” the girl said, putting her hands over her eyes.

“Have you not heard of knocking?”

“I just wanted to tell you what I’ve got planned for tonight.”

“And it couldn’t wait?”

“What have you got planned, Georgie?” said Abby, tucking her blouse back into her jeans and standing.

“A murder mystery party,” Georgie said. “Is it okay to look?”

“Yes, we weren’t doing anything,” said Abby, and Marcus could tell from the look Georgie gave them both that she wasn’t fooled by that.

“I don’t want to know what you were doing, it’s too gross. Come down to the sitting room cause I’ve got cards and stuff for you. You have to get prepared.”

With that she turned and fled the room.

“That girl!” said Marcus, exasperated. “She has a sixth sense for when we’re getting it on.”

“It would be a challenge for her to find a time we’re not getting it on.” Abby laughed, then got off the bed.

“Where are you going?” whined Marcus.

“To see what she has planned.”

Marcus grumbled, but followed her downstairs to the sitting room.

“If I’m the body there’ll be trouble,” he said to Georgie as they sat waiting for the instructions for the game.

“Here’s your card,” she said, handing it to him with a smirk.

Marcus opened it. “Lord Snooty?” he said, glowering at her.

Georgie giggled and everyone else smiled.

“Very appropriate,” said Vera.

Marcus glanced at Abby, who was trying to stop her smile growing wider.

“I’m the very glamorous Lady Penelope Flamingo,” she said, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “I absolutely adore that name, Georgie!”

“You and Lord Snooty are arch enemies,” said Georgie, “but he secretly has a crush on you.”

“Oh, I love that kind of story. I will enjoy winding him up.” Abby grinned at Marcus.

“Daddy, you’re a grumpy fossil hunter and mummy is the head of the museum.”

“Hmm,” said Sir Anthony Kane, narrowing his eyes at his daughter. “Smells like revenge for what I said about your career choices.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore, daddy, because I’m going to be an actress now.”

“An actress?” said Vera, a disapproving look crossing her face which she then rearranged into a smile when she looked at Abby. “Lovely.”

“I’m the famous detective Miss Georgina Holmes, who will solve the mystery,” said Georgie proudly.

“I don’t know about being an actress, Georgie, I think you should be a writer,” said Abby.

“How can you be the detective and write the story?” said Marcus. “Surely you already know who did it?”

“I can be whatever I want,” said Georgie in a manner that brooked no discussion. “Instructions for how to dress are on your cards.”

Marcus read the rest of his card. “I haven’t brought a tuxedo.”

“There’s one in your wardrobe, darling. I picked it up from the dry cleaners just the other week,” said Vera.

“If it fits him,” mocked Georgie.

“Right!” said Marcus, standing up decisively. “That’s enough of your lip young lady!” He grabbed her, lifted her and carried her squealing over his shoulder to the back door.

“Marcus, stop it, let me down!” she said, thumping his back with her small fists.

“Shall I put you outside like we do Vincent and Barley when they’ve been naughty?” He pulled open the door, dangled her over the threshold.

“No!” she screamed.

“Are you going to be good?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.”

He put her down, and instantly regretted it because she started alternately pummelling and tickling him and when he tried to grab her again she ran away, taunting him. He chased her through the downstairs rooms until he could run no more, and then he gave up, collapsing back into his chair in the sitting room.

“I’m too old for this,” he panted, much to Abby’s amusement.

\---

In the afternoon, Abby enjoyed a short walk along the coast to the lighthouse with Marcus, and they had an early dinner of meat mixed with tiny vegetables and a mashed potato top called cottage pie. It was tasty, but filling, and Abby stood in the bedroom later examining the dresses she’d taken out of her suitcase, her hand on her small food belly.

“I’m not sure any of these will fit after that!” she said to Marcus who was squeezing himself into his black suit pants.

“I know, I think the dry cleaner has shrunk these.” He wrapped a red cummerbund around his waist. “That will cover it.”

“You look pretty fine to me.”

“I think you should wear your red dress,” he said, picking it off the rail.

“That’s THE red dress.” Abby took it from him, examined it. She hadn’t worn it since that night.

“Yeah. I think that’s the one for tonight.” He stroked the material.

“You won’t get too excited if I wear it?”

“I’ll definitely get excited, but I’ll manage it.”

“That would be a first. Okay, I’ll see if it still fits after six months of English carbohydrates.”

She slipped it on under Marcus’s watchful gaze, turned so he could zip up the back. He stood behind her, closed the zipper slowly, his warm breath on her neck. He put his arms around her from behind afterwards, his hands resting on her belly, his lips nuzzling her neck.

“Beautiful,” he said, kissing her neck and the side of her face, leaving a tingling trail in his wake.

Abby turned, put her arms around his neck, kissed his lips. His arousal was pressing into her. “You’re already excited,” she whispered into his ear.

“I’ll be fine in a minute.”

They kissed tenderly, savouring the moment together, and then Marcus pulled away. “That isn’t helping.”

“I’ll go downstairs while you compose yourself.” Abby kissed his cheek then went to find Georgie and the others. They were in the larger sitting room, and Georgie had lit candles which scattered an orange glow over the room.

The game was hilarious. Vincent the dog played the corpse, a role he was born for as it involved little more than lying on the rug in front of the fire which he had no problem doing. He was so convincing that at one point Sir Anthony nudged him gently with his foot, a rare smile crossing his face when the dog snuffled then let out a loud fart.

Abby knew from her card that she was the murderer, and she enjoyed playing the part, hamming it up with an attempt at an English accent that Georgie said was perfect and Marcus said was the best he’d heard. Given that he had once told her American attempts at British accents in movies were appalling, she didn’t let his compliment go to her head. She enjoyed teasing his Lord Snooty character, flirting outrageously with him, to which he responded with faux disdain.

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the so-called Lady Flamingo here was the murderer,” he said at one point, looking imperiously down his long nose at her.

“Marcus, you’re not supposed to guess!” said Georgie, hands on hips. She was wearing a pair of black pants and an oversized tweed jacket that must have belonged to Sir Anthony. She’d painted a moustache on her face and sucked on one of her father’s empty pipes as she thought. She looked so adorable Abby wanted to gather her up and take her with her to New York. It was going to be a wrench leaving the girl.

“That was so enjoyable, Georgie, thank you,” said Abby when she’d been unmasked as the culprit and they were enjoying a glass of wine, or lemonade in Georgie’s case.

“Yes, that was good fun, pipsqueak.” Marcus pulled Georgie onto his knee and put his arms around her and to Abby’s surprise she didn’t wriggle away.

“I thought about making you the murderer, but it would have been too obvious,” she said.

“Are you saying you think I’m capable of killing someone?” Marcus replied in a menacing whisper, squeezing her.

“No,” she giggled, “but it’s always the man. I wanted to be different.”

“It was perfect, sweetheart,” said Abby.

“Time for bed, Georgie,” said Vera.

“Noooo! It’s still early.”

“It’s not early, it’s nearly eleven. Way past your bedtime.”

Georgie grumbled but got off Marcus’s knee.

“Night, pipsqueak,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Night. Will you come with me, Abby?”

“Of course I will.”

Abby followed her upstairs, waited outside the door while she changed into her pyjamas and got into bed.

“You really are a talented writer, you know. I’m not just saying that cause you’re you.” She sat on the edge of the bed, stroked Georgie’s arm.

“I’m going to miss you,” Georgie said, a fat tear rolling down her cheek.

Abby leaned in, wiped it away. “None of that. You’ll see me real soon. Tomorrow in fact, when we have breakfast!”

“It won’t be the same,” she sniffed.

“No, but it will be fine, I promise.” She kissed her forehead. “I love you. Sleep tight.”

“I love you too. Night, Abby.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

When she returned to the sitting room, Vera and Sir Anthony were in the same positions but there was no sign of Marcus.

“Where’s Marcus?” Abby asked.

“I don’t know where he’s gone, but he left a note for you.” Vera handed a slip of paper to Abby.

The note was in his familiar neat handwriting.

_Come to the beach. There’s a pair of boots and a torch by the back door._

What was he doing on the beach at this time of night? Abby went to the back door, peeked outside. It was cold, but the night was starry and the moon was a bright sliver. She fastened her red coat over her dress, slipped into the pair of boots. They looked incongruous with the dress but it wasn’t as though she was on a catwalk. She took the torch and went outside. The moon was clear enough to see by, but she used the torch to navigate the well-worn path. At the top of the cliff she saw Marcus pacing the sand below. What was he doing? If he wanted some alone time there were easier ways.

“It’s a bit cold for sex on the beach,” she said as she approached him across the sand, although he was sexy enough in his tuxedo to tempt her despite the cold.

“That’s a step too far even for me. You look gorgeous.” He took her in his arms and kissed her.

“Not sure the boots are very sexy.”

He stepped back a moment to appraise her. “Oh, they are.” He moved close again, took hold of the button at the top of her coat and unbuttoned it.

“Marcus! I thought you said it was too far.”

“It is. Just trust me.”

He unbuttoned the rest of the coat slowly then looked at her, shaking his head and smiling. “I'll never forget this dress, how you looked in it the day I met you.”

Ah, so he was feeling nostalgic. “I felt good in it.” She linked her arms around his neck and he put his around her waist beneath her coat, his hands caressing the soft material of her dress. They swayed as though they were slow dancing.

“I was intoxicated by you.”

“I was the same,” she whispered, nuzzling his ear.

“It’s been like that ever since.”

“Yes.”

They kissed again, swaying together beneath the moonlight, then Marcus took a step back.

“I had a whole thing planned for this night, you know, in London. Romantic meal, the London Eye to ourselves, a night in Sinclair’s finest hotel, but you rather scuppered that when you wanted to come here.”

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, smiling, and the softness of his look made something in Abby’s stomach turn over and she grew warm.

“I guess this way is better,” he continued. “This is more you, and more me since I met you. Abby, I... I love you and I’ve never loved anyone before, and I know I won’t again. You’re the only one for me, and no matter what we have to face over the next few months I want this to be forever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I’m pretty sure you feel the same.”

“I do.” Her pulse had picked up now because his words felt like a prepared speech and she wasn't sure what that meant.

He took a box out of his pocket, opened it. The diamond ring inside glinted in the moonlight.

“Will you marry me?” he said, taking the ring out of the box and holding it between fingers she was surprised to see were shaking. He was nervous, which she’d never seen before.

“Marcus...” It was shocking to hear him ask her; it took her breath away. She looked up at him. He was sucking on his bottom lip, looking increasingly anxious.

“You don’t have to... I shouldn’t—”

“No, I’m just so surprised that’s all. You’ve shocked the hell out of me.” She took the hand that wasn’t holding the ring. “I love you too. You excite me and you enchant me and you bring me so much joy and happiness. You make me feel loved and wanted and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Is that a yes?” he said, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

“It’s a big yes!” She pulled him towards her, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him passionately.

“I was confident and then I started to waver when you didn’t say anything immediately,” he said when they parted.

“I was stunned into a rare silence that’s all.”

He took her hand, slipped the ring onto her finger then brought it to his lips and kissed it.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“Believe it,” she said, and they held each other in the moonlight.

\---

“I had a chain made for the ring,” Marcus said as he walked hand in hand with Abby back to the house. “I know you won’t be able to wear it on your finger after you leave here, but I thought you could keep it close if you wanted to.”

“That’s a great idea, thank you.”

He could feel the cold ring on her finger where they were joined. It was wonderfully strange knowing it was there, and she’d said yes and that she was his.

“So you had a whole thing planned, did you? Is that why you were so grumpy when I said I wanted to come here?”

“Partly, although mainly that was because I wanted you all to myself, but yes, I was going to propose when we were at the top of the London Eye.”

“Very grand.”

“Probably over the top, really.”

“I think it sounds very romantic, but tonight was perfect.” She leaned into him and he put his arm around her.

“Are you happy?”

“I’ve never been happier.”

They reached the back door and paused to kiss again.

“Are we telling your parents?” Abby said, opening the door and taking off her boots and her red coat.

Marcus groaned. “Maybe tomorrow, then we can tell Georgie at the same time.”

“She’s going to be ecstatic.”

“She told me I’d marry you the first time she met you.”

“She didn’t?”

“Yeah, when we were driving back from the film set. I think it was more so she could have you as a sister than because she was thinking of me.”

“Still, she’s an insightful kid.”

Marcus peeked into the sitting room where his father was snoring in his chair and his mother was reading a book next to the fire.

“Let’s sneak upstairs,” he said, grabbing Abby’s hand.

“They’ll wonder where we are.”

“They won’t care. Come on.”

In Marcus’s old bedroom they stood looking at each other. Marcus caressed the ring on Abby’s finger, rolled his thumb over the diamond.

“When did you decide this?” said Abby, looking down at their joined hands.

“Last week. I woke up early and you were still asleep and I watched you and I just thought, I want this for the rest of my life. Later that day I was visiting a client in Knightsbridge and saw the ring and bought it and then I kind of realised that meant I had to officially ask you.”

“I think I’m still in shock. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I like to surprise you.”

“You did.”

“This dress,” he said, fingering the edge of the vee. “I think it’s time it came off.”

“Mmm,” replied Abby.

He turned her so he could ease the zip down, kissing her bared shoulders. He let the dress fall to the floor and she stepped out of it. He already knew she was wearing a strapless bra and panties, red this time not black like that first night. The sight of them turned him on as much as they had then.

“Do you remember what we did back then?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she murmured, and she put her arm behind, held onto his head.

He kneaded her breasts like he had before, undoing the bra this time, freeing them. His other hand slipped eagerly lower, down over the slight swell of her belly, into her panties, not waiting for permission now because there was no need.

“God, that’s so good,” she said as he caressed her.

“I remember thinking how hot you were, how much I wanted to touch every part of you.”

“You have touched every part of me.”

His fingers picked up the pace, knowing exactly what to do, how to bring her to an intense climax. She shuddered and sighed, turned so she could put her arms around him.

“I’d never known anything like that night,” she said, walking him backwards towards the bed. She pushed him down, stood before him in just her panties.

“We were amazing.”

“We are.” She bent to slip off the panties, crawled over him and sank onto his waiting cock.

They spent half the night making love in as many of the ways they’d done on the first night as they could remember and had the energy for, talking in between, before falling into an exhausted sleep in the early hours.

Marcus woke to a weak sun poking through the gap in the curtains. A heavy weight had settled in his stomach. This was the last time he’d wake up next to Abby for a while. He turned onto his side. She was facing away from him and he put his arm over her gently, not wanting to wake her and at the same time desperate for every second he could get with her.

“Morning,” she mumbled, reaching behind to stroke his thigh.

He kissed her messy hair, teased it away from her back so he could kiss her warm skin.

“Morning,” he murmured.

She turned, pressed herself to him. There were tears in her eyes and it pained Marcus to see them.

“It will be okay,” he said, and he wrapped himself around her.

They made love again slowly. He tried to commit everything about her to his memory, the delicate floral scent of her perfume that still lingered, the saltiness of her skin where he kissed her, the low rumbling of her voice as she groaned quietly and whispered his name.

“I love you,” he said, not wanting to let go of her.

“I love you.”

Abby sighed, and because she was so much stronger than him she was the one who left the bed, pulling on a dressing gown so she could go the bathroom without outraging the decency of a passing member of the Kane family.

By the time she returned Marcus was up and dressed. They went down to breakfast together, walked into the kitchen hand in hand. The rest of the family were already there, plates of bacon and eggs half empty.

“Morning, Marcus. Morning Abby,” said Vera, and she gave them both a warm almost sad smile that made the knot in Marcus’s stomach even tighter.

“Morning,” he said, taking his seat.

“Here’s some coffee the way you like it, Abby dear,” said Mrs Prentice, pouring her a cup.

“That’s very kind, thank you.”

“Abby and I are engaged,” blurted Marcus because he wanted to get the announcement and all the stuff that would come with it out of the way.

“Oh, my God!” squealed Georgie.

“Hmm, what’s that?” said Sir Anthony, looking up from his newspaper.

“I asked her to marry me last night and she said yes.”

“It was very romantic,” said Abby, showing Vera and Georgie the ring.

“It’s gorgeous, Abby, I’m so happy for you guys!” Georgie put her arms around his back, squeezed him, peppered his face with wet kisses then did the same to Abby.

“It’s like being kissed by Vincent,” said Marcus, wiping his cheek.

“I know you’re going to be grumpy today, so I’ll ignore that,” said Georgie, sitting on Abby’s knee.

“Let Abby have her breakfast, Georgie,” said Marcus as Mrs Prentice hovered with a plate.

“Alright, alright.” She got up, returned to her seat, a huge grin on her face. “I told you you’d marry her.”

“You did. You were right.”

The rest of the morning flew past way too quickly. There wasn’t time for much except packing and loading the car. It was hard to take his eyes away from Abby as she got ready. She was such a part of his life now, filling a gap that he hadn’t realised was there, that the thought of her not being here was too much. He pushed it away because he wanted to be strong for her.

“We need to go soon if we’re to make your check in,” he said, glancing at his phone.

“I know. I’m ready.” She straightened and turned to look at him. Her eyes were shiny but she seemed to be holding it back. Marcus didn’t want to tip her over the edge so he simply nodded.

“Better get the goodbyes over with then.” He held out his hand and Abby gripped it.

They walked into the sitting room where the family were pretending to be busy but sympathetic eyes turned on them as they entered.

“We’re heading to Heathrow,” he said.

“Thank you so much for having me, and for being so kind and welcoming,” said Abby, giving Vera a hug.

“You’re welcome, dear. We’re delighted to have you in the family. I hope it won’t be long before we see you again,” replied Vera.

“Hopefully not.”

She got a pat on the back from Sir Anthony. “Have a safe flight,” he said.

“Thank you.”

That left Georgie, who was sitting in the chair pretending to read, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. Abby knelt in front of her.

“I’ll see you in New York, sweetheart. I’m so looking forward to it.”

“Yeah,” sniffed Georgie.

“Say goodbye properly, Georgie,” said Marcus, feeling as sorry for her as he was for himself.

“Give me a Georgie hug,” said Abby, holding out her arms.

Georgie relented, hugged Abby, crying loudly with her head buried in Abby’s jacket.

“It will be okay.” Abby stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head.

“You will come back, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. I’m going to get everything sorted out and then you won’t be able to keep me away.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to do something for me actually before I see you again.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to write me something, a sketch or a scene or whatever you want, something that I can perform and will make me practice my English accent.”

“Yeah?” The beginnings of a smile appeared on Georgie’s face.

“Yes, I think that would be super helpful for me.”

“I can do that.”

“Great, well I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll discuss it.”

“Okay.”

Abby hugged her again and kissed her. “Bye, sweetheart.”

She got up and walked straight out of the room. Marcus picked up her carry-on bag and followed. He found her already in the front seat of the car, getting angry with her seatbelt that wouldn’t fasten. He put the bag on the rear seat, got in next to Abby.

“Let me do that.” He clicked in the belt, then looked at her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

They didn’t speak much on the drive to the airport. Marcus put a classical music station on to break up the silence. He negotiated the complex system of terminals, found a space on the ground floor of a car park near the entrance to Terminal 5. There were people shouting and bustling about outside, luggage carts rattling, but inside the car the silence was heavy and oppressive.

“Let’s get your bags,” Marcus said, getting out of the car.

He went to the boot, unloaded the suitcases and the painting, and put them on a nearby trolley. Abby leaned into the back seat of the car to get her carry-on bag.

He saw her wipe her eyes as she closed the door.

“Come here,” he said, and she turned, fell into his arms.

“It’s so hard,” she sobbed.

“I know. These last six months have been the happiest of my life, and I don’t know where the time has gone.”

“I don’t. I knew we were setting up trouble for ourselves almost from the start, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I wouldn’t change it,” Marcus said, burying his lips in her hair, feeling the soft strands rub against them as he kissed her head.

“Oh, God, no. It’s been the best thing that’s happened to me. I wouldn’t change anything.”

“We’ll talk every day and it’s only a few weeks until the new year.”

“I wish you could come out earlier, but I’ve so much work.”

“I know, me too. We’ll manage the waiting; you know how we like the anticipation.”

She smiled at last. “Yeah. That was always a good part.”

“And now we know how to video call, there’ll be no stopping us.”

“Another new experience.”

“There’s so much still to come.”

She sighed, then pulled away, wiping her eyes. “We can do this.”

“Yes. We’re strong.”

She nodded. “Thank you, for everything. Thank you for loving me and making me feel like the most important person in the world.”

“You are the most important person in the world.”

“So are you.”

Marcus felt tears forming as well and he brushed them away. “Call me when you get home.”

“I will. The instant.”

“I won’t come to the terminal.”

“No, best not.”

He took a small velvet bag out of his pocket then held Abby’s hand, slipping the engagement ring from her finger. He threaded the chain he’d had made through it. Abby held her hair up while he fastened it around her neck. It was a long chain, nestling deep within the vee of her breasts.

“Now I’ll always be in my favourite place,” he said, grinning at her.

“I love it,” she replied fingering it and then tucking it back into her blouse.

“I love you,” Marcus said gently.

“I love you too.”

They hugged again, shared a long, sweet kiss.

“We will meet again, Red,” said Marcus.

“We will.”

With that Abby grabbed her luggage trolley and pushed it towards the terminal. Marcus watched her go. It was new, this feeling of helplessness, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t used to not being able to solve everything instantly, didn’t like the fact that he was having to let her go. The sooner they got her situation sorted out the better it would be. He sighed, got back in his car. He surprised himself by heading back to Dorset instead of to London. He wasn’t ready to be alone just yet.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy!

Abby sat nursing a coffee in the large open-plan dining room of her New York apartment, staring out at the courtyard. It had snowed for a few days now and most of her pots and plants had changed into poorly defined white shapes. The tree branches that overhung the rear wall from her neighbour’s property were drooping with the weight, and one dropped its load as she watched, powdery droplets scattering into the air. It wasn’t snowing in Dorset; she knew that because she’d spoken to Georgie a couple of days before, and the girl was bereft that Abby had snow and she did not.

The sketch she was writing for Abby to perform had turned into a full-blown mini play. She was so excited about it she hadn’t been able to sit still when they were talking, kept dancing around her bedroom, gesticulating as she had an idea, coming in and out of view. It made Abby laugh. There was nothing like the exuberance of youth to remind you that you were getting old and slowing down. It was tiring watching her. If she and Marcus had a baby like they’d discussed, it would be fourteen years before the child was the same age as Georgie, which meant they would be fourteen years older and probably a hundred times more exhausted.

It was mid-December, and in the three weeks since she’d left London, she and Marcus had fallen into a routine. They talked twice a day over video - once when Abby woke up and it was his lunchtime, and again before he went to bed. The evening call often involved less talking and a lot more intimacy, something she’d found awkward at first but had now got used to and enjoyed. They’d learned how to turn each other on with their words and fantasies, and she figured if she ever stopped getting acting jobs, she’d have a lucrative second career as an erotic novelist.

She was waiting for him to call now so they could have breakfast/lunch, or brunch as they called it, together. He had a meeting all day, and could only call her on his lunch break, and he couldn’t control when that would be. It didn’t matter, because she was working from home anyway due to the snow, doing some edits of the movie in her small home studio.

Another branchfull of snow fell and she was watching a bird hop around on top of it when her laptop buzzed. She opened it, accepted the call. Marcus’s smiling face instantly made her feel warm and happy like it always did.

“Morning!” she said.

“Morning! How’s my Red today?”

“I’m good. It’s still snowing.” She turned the laptop so he could see into the garden.

“They’re threatening it here later this week.” He pulled an unamused face.

“You’re not a fan of the white stuff?”

“I’m fine if I’m skiing over it or drinking in an alpine village looking at it, but when it snows here everything grinds to a halt.”

“I didn’t know you skied!”

“Mostly from my misspent youth. I’m passable.”

“I love to ski! Maybe when you come up in the New Year we can go. There’s a resort in the Catskills, it’s only a couple of hours away.” Abby was delighted with this new knowledge about Marcus, could already see them in a private ski lodge, days out on the slopes, nights in front of the roaring fire.

“Can we be seen together there?”

“Oh. Right. Maybe next year then,” she sighed, deflated at the realisation that not only was she apart from Marcus, when they were able to be together they still had to be careful where they were seen and how they behaved. Goddamnit!

“Definitely next year. We’ll take a holiday, anywhere you want. Europe or America or Canada.”

“I’d kind of like to go to some cute Swiss village high in the mountains.”

“Zermatt is great. There are some smaller resorts with traditional chalets, and you’ve got lakes and the Matterhorn.”

“Oh, wow, yeah, that sounds beautiful. Oh, I want this now, Marcus.”

“Then we’ll do it.” He smiled at her, put his hand to the screen of his laptop. “Maybe it will be our honeymoon.”

Abby’s heart thumped at his words. She put her hand to the screen. She wished she could curl her fingers around his. It was torture seeing him and not being able to touch him.

“We’d have to get married first.”

“Christmas wedding, this time next year, and then we’ll go to Switzerland for the honeymoon.”

“Yeah? Where are we getting married?”

“Wherever you want.”

“I’d kind of like it in Dorset, at your family home.”

She smiled as she saw Marcus try to contain the look of horror he always got whenever she mentioned something about his family.

“Hmm,” he said. “Well, we can discuss this further.”

“Oh, we will!” She sighed. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you. This morning when I woke I don’t know why but for some reason I thought you were next to me. I could feel your presence, and smell your perfume, but then I turned over and you weren’t there. I felt really deflated.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” said Abby, caressing the outline of his hair on the screen with her fingertips. “I want your arms around me. I want your kisses and to feel your touch.”

“God, I wish I wasn’t at work,” he groaned.

“I’m going to think about you all day,” Abby murmured.

“I’ll be thinking of you too. Don’t go doing anything naughty until we speak tonight. Wait for me.”

“I’ll try,” she said, smiling at the look of mock horror that crossed his face.

He rearranged his handsome features into a smile. “What are you doing the rest of the day?”

“I’ve got the first of the ADRs, some dialogue re-recording with Emma. She’s going into the studio at the BBC and I’ll be directing her over video. I’ll be doing those the rest of this week.”

“I’ve got this meeting all day. We’ve the Annual General Meeting next week so it’s getting prepared for that. Could go on into the early evening.”

“Sounds exciting!” she said sarcastically.

“We’ve had a good year financially, so it’s not too bad.”

“Even with your investment in my movie?”

“Yes. I did that through a European investment scheme so there are a lot of tax reliefs to claim to offset some of the costs.”

“It’s kind of hot when you talk business,” Abby said, smirking at him.

“I’m a very hot guy.”

“You are.”

They smiled fondly at each other.

“So, when’s best for me to call tonight?” said Marcus. She saw him look up from his laptop and nod at someone she couldn’t see. “I won’t be a moment,” he said.

“Lateish if you don’t mind, say around eleven your time? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I can talk to you from bed and you can tire me out.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, making her voice low and seductive.

“You have something planned?”

“Maybe.”

“Can’t wait.” Marcus sighed. “I have to go.”

“I know you do. We’ll speak later.”

“Okay. Have a good day.”

“You too. I love you,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

“I love you.” He blew her a kiss in return and then the screen went blank.

Abby got up, walked to the sink to rinse her coffee cup. She’d have to get creative for their call tonight. She had new underwear he hadn’t seen yet, so she could tempt him with those. It was still strange getting in the mood for sex in what was effectively the middle of the day for her, but she was getting used to it, spent her working day anticipating what they were going to do.

\---

Marcus collapsed onto his sofa, too tired for the moment to even take off his coat or shoes. It was nearly midnight, and the end, finally, of a long working day. Granted, the last couple of hours had been spent in a bar with his colleagues and board members, but it was still work. Kane International’s Annual General Meeting had been held at their offices today, and they’d gone out for a well-deserved drink and late supper afterwards. He’d been working towards this for weeks and was glad it was finally over.

He’d promised to video call Abby when he got in. He’d do it in a minute, when he’d rested his eyes. He woke with a start what he thought was a moment later, but when he looked at his phone he saw it was gone two, and he had a text message from Abby asking if he was okay. Shit! She’d be wondering what had happened to him.

He sat up wearily, took off his coat and shoes and headed to his bedroom. Jacket, shirt and trousers off and dumped on the chaise longue. He got a black t-shirt from his drawer, put it on, then lay on the bed in his boxers. His personal laptop was on the table he’d bought especially for the purpose of video calling Abby at night. It was the perfect height for her to get a good view of him when they were having what Georgie called cybersex. He wasn’t happy that she knew such a term or anything at all about sex, but she’d be fourteen in a couple of months and he supposed she was growing up.

He tried to work out the time in New York. They were five hours behind so if it was two here then it was nine for Abby. He called her, and after a couple of rings she answered, her smiling face lifting his tired spirits.

“You’re alive!” she said, her smile widening.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t get home until midnight and I fell asleep on the sofa.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re okay. How was the AGM?”

He told her the most interesting tales from his day, not that finance meetings were exciting to anyone even him, but Abby liked flavour rather than details, so he described the rain-spattered streets around his office and how busy they were, the Christmas lights that were strung between lampposts and around shop windows, gave her caricatures of the board members, trying to make her laugh. None of these things he’d ever noticed before, but Abby brought colour to his life in many ways.

“I would love to have seen London at Christmas,” she sighed.

“I hear Christmas in New York is the thing now, although there’s only one place there I’d like to be.”

“Where’s that?” she said, looking at him coyly.

“Times Square,” he replied, laughing. “No, the only place in New York I’d like to be is in your bed with you.”

“I’m on my bed now,” she said, angling her laptop so he could see her bedroom.

She’d had it redecorated recently to remove all traces of her ex and it was all warm reds and browns and honeyed yellows, not that he spent much time looking at her room. He was only interested in her.

“I can see that,” he said. “What are you wearing?”

“I figured you’d be tired, so I’m still in jeans and a sweater.”

“I’m never too tired for you,” he said, a yawn betraying the lie in his words.

“I think you are. If I were there now I’d give you a massage to relax you. I bet you’re achy from sitting down all day at your meeting.”

“I ache in lots of ways,” he replied, lowering his voice in the way she liked.

“Maybe you should get the Wand; it is a massager after all.”

“Is that what you would use?”

“I would use my hands, and my fingers, and I’d rub and squeeze you and really get your blood flowing.”

“You’re doing that now!” He opened the drawer, got the Wand out and showed it to her. “Where should I start?”

“By taking your clothes off.”

He saw her lean closer to the screen as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. He hooked his thumbs into his shorts, eased them down, his cock flopping softly against his groin.

“My favourite view,” said Abby, and his cock pulsed.

He wrapped a loose fist around it, stroked it a couple of times, bringing some life to it.

“Not yet!” admonished Abby from the screen. “Start with the wand, rub it over your arms and then your chest.”

Marcus set the wand to a medium buzz, ran it slowly over his body. It was relaxing, especially with Abby whispering encouragements to him in her low, rumbling voice. His cock throbbed and swelled, growing heavy against his stomach.

“Shouldn’t you be getting naked?” he said to Abby as he ran the wand lower, following a trail of hairs that led to his groin.

“This is for you tonight.”

“I want to see you as well,” he grumbled.

“You can see me tomorrow. I’ll do the same thing, I promise.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” he whispered. She’d bought herself a Wand when she got back to the States and they often used them at the same time. She had another toy as well, one that she put inside her. It excited him enormously watching her use that, even though he wished it were him.

“Touch your cock with it,” she said, and as always when she spoke like that he grew hot all over.

He lowered the setting so he could get used to the vibrations, before increasing them gradually. She instructed him to rub it all over his lower parts, from his groin to his arse until he was groaning loudly with the pleasure.

“Does it feel good?” she murmured.

“Amazing. I wish you were sucking me, though.”

“Imagine that I am.”

He moaned as he pictured one of his favourites of the many times she’d gone down on him. They’d been in the shower at his apartment, the water warm as it hit them. She’d put a soapy finger in his arse while she sucked him and made his knees buckle.

“Fuck!” he cried, coming in hot spurts all over the wand and his stomach.

He heard her sigh with satisfaction. “You’re so hot,” she whispered.

“You’re the hot one.” He cleaned himself up, turned onto his side so he could see her.

“You feel relaxed now?”

“Mmm.”

She smiled happily. Marcus sighed. “I wish I was with you,” he said.

“I know. It just gets harder.”

“It’s Christmas in a few days. I don’t like the thought of you alone on Christmas day.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with you on video and Georgie has said she’s going to take her laptop with her everywhere she goes so I can see everything you all do.”

Abby laughed, and Marcus smiled, but inside he found the whole scenario painful. He’d never been one for Christmas festivities before, but this year would have been different with Abby there. They were both so busy, that was the problem. She only had one day off because she had a deadline to make with her film, and he was spending the day itself in Dorset but had to be back in London the next day ahead of a meeting on the twenty-seventh. There was nothing they could do about it.

“We’ll make the best of it,” he said, yawning again.

“We will. It will be great, I promise. Now, don’t undo all my hard work by staying awake. Get some rest and call me when you’re ready in the morning.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you for the massage,” he said, managing a tired smirk.

“You can return the favour tomorrow, or rather tonight I guess for you.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Go to sleep, Marcus. I love you.”

“I love you. Night, Abby.”

They blew kisses to each other and then he closed the laptop. He pulled the covers over himself and turned onto his other side. A Christmas spent apart didn’t seem right, but what could he do about it? He closed his eyes, fell easily into a heavy sleep.

\---

“How’s the play coming along?” asked Abby on a video call with Georgie on the Tuesday before Christmas. “Is it still one act or have we expanded to three?”

“It’s still one but I keep getting new ideas,” Georgie said, bouncing in her chair.

“The best ideas are often the simplest ones, so have a think about that before you put any effort into writing new material.”

“Okay. What did you think of the latest draft?”

“Great so far. I have a few notes for you if you want them.”

“Sure, yes!” She opened her notepad, sucked on the end of her pen as she looked at Abby, waiting for her comments.

They discussed the play, and then Georgie told her about her week at school and updated Abby on the latest news regarding a boy she liked called Finley who was super clever and had eyes the colour of the summer sky. Abby was the only one privy to the girl’s feelings about this boy and was sworn to secrecy. She wasn’t allowed to tell Marcus under pain of death. She didn’t like keeping things from him, but Georgie didn’t have a lot of people she could talk to and Abby understood how important it was for a young girl to have a confidante. She wanted to be there for Georgie throughout the ups and downs of her first crush.

“Have you spoken to Marcus today?” said Georgie when she’d exhausted the topic of Finley and his Nobel prize-worthy school science project.

“Yes, I spoke to him this morning. Why?”

Georgie shrugged. “Just wondered.”

“Is everything alright?” Abby felt tension rise and settle in her shoulders because Georgie looked subdued at the mention of Marcus and she’d been so animated a few moments ago.

“Yeah, it’s just that I was talking to him and he seems really down.”

“He was fine when we talked, sweetheart. You know your brother; sometimes he can be a little terse, especially if he has a lot on his mind.”

“I know. I just think he’s really sad that you’re not going to be here for Christmas. He’s like the old miserable Marcus.”

“I guess it’s true that we’re both sad about that, but we’ve accepted it, and I’m really looking forward to sharing the day with you even if it is over video. We do okay talking like this don’t we?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.”

Abby thought it was Georgie who was really sad that they wouldn’t be seeing each other at Christmas. It was upsetting, because they’d grown closer since Abby had returned to New York, chatting every two or three days, but that proved that a good relationship was possible even at a distance, didn’t it?

“I know it’s not, sweetheart. Try not to worry about him. He’ll be okay.”

“He misses you. We all do.”

“I miss you too, but it’s not long now before we’ll see each other.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I have to get back to work now I’m afraid, but have a think about my notes on the play and I’ll look forward to your next draft.”

“Yeah, I will,” said Georgie, perking up again. “Okay. I’ll call you on Christmas Eve.”

“Cool. Why don’t you make up a glass of that mojito mocktail recipe I sent you and we’ll have a Christmas drink together.”

“Ooh, yeah, I will.”

“Have a great few days. I love you.”

“Love you! Bye, Abby.”

“Bye, Georgie.”

Abby ended the call, got up to pour herself a mug of coffee from the pot. She stood at the patio window looking out onto her courtyard garden. There was only a light dusting of snow left now, along with some deeper pockets in the shadier areas. Marcus had seemed happy enough when she’d spoken to him earlier, but he was a guarded man at times, didn’t reveal his deeper feelings easily. She should have stayed in London, figured out some way of finishing the work there, Spencer be damned. It was too late now. What’s done is done.

\---

“I don’t have much time, Georgie,” said Marcus, answering his phone hands free as he drove between meetings.

“I know, I just wanted to tell you that I just spoke with Abby.”

“Yeah? That’s nice.”

Georgie rambled on about her play or something or other. Marcus tried to listen but was distracted by the rain and the heavy traffic on the late December afternoon.

“Uh-huh,” he interjected at what felt like the appropriate moments.

“Have you talked to her today?” she said.

“Yes, at lunchtime.” He turned into the car park of the client he was about to meet, found a space and parked up.

“Did she seem okay to you?”

“Yes, she was fine. Why?” He got out of the car, went around to the boot to get his briefcase.

“I don’t know. She just seemed kinda down.”

“In what way?” he said, hurrying into the building to get out of the rain. He stood in the lobby, his phone pressed to his ear.

“I think she’s more upset than she’s saying about not being with us for Christmas.”

“Why, did she say something to you?”

“Not as such, it was just in her voice and her eyes.”

“Since when are you such a good judge of what’s going on in peoples’ eyes?”

“Since I observe people, Marcus. It’s what good writers do.”

Marcus sighed. It was Georgie who was sad that Abby wasn’t going to be here, not that he and Abby weren’t, but the situation was what it was.

“I’m sure she’s fine, pipsqueak. Don’t worry.”

“I AM worried, Marcus. She’s going to be all alone miles away from the people who love her. You’ll have us at least.”

Her words upset him because he’d thought about that a lot, especially after some of his latest conversations with Abby. She was upbeat about it as always, but he was concerned she was hiding her true feelings because she didn’t want to have them worrying about her. That would be typical of her.

“What do you want me to do about it, Georgie? My hands are tied.”

“Can’t she come here? It’s only for a few days.”

“You know she can’t. She has important deadlines to meet.”

“This sucks!” moaned Georgie.

“It is what it is. I have to go to my meeting.”

“Fine. I’m just telling you what I think.”

“Noted. I’ll speak to you later. Don’t go pestering Abby about this.”

“Hmm,” she replied, and then the line went dead.

“Bloody hell!” he said, annoyed and upset for a whole host of reasons. He pushed open the lobby door, tried to put his conversation with Georgie to the back of his mind.

\---

Four in the morning on Christmas Eve, and a bleary-eyed Marcus was in the departure lounge of Heathrow Airport when his phone rang and it was Georgie.

“You get to the airport okay?” she said.

“Yes, I’m in the lounge now. Should be boarding soon.”

“When will you land in New York?”

“They’re saying the flight will be about seven and a half hours, so around seven New York time.

“That’s so weird, like you’ll land only three hours after you took off kind of.”

“That’s right.”

“Abby’s going to be so surprised!”

“She is.”

“You have to call me on the computer the minute you get there.”

“Can I say hello to Abby myself first?” he said, laughing at her impatience.

“Yes, I suppose, but then you call me.”

“Okay, okay.” He looked at the gate, saw that they were getting ready to board. “I’m going to have to go in a minute, and you should be asleep!”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Are you sure you’re alright with me not being with you on Christmas day?”

“No, it sucks, but I’d rather you and Abby were together.”

“You’re a good pipsqueak,” he said. “The best.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“No.”

She laughed. “Give Abby a big kiss from me.”

“I will. Okay I have to go, they’re boarding. I love you, you horror.”

“I love you too. Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks.”

He switched off his phone and went to the gate. Half an hour later he was in his seat and the plane was taxiing to the runway. It was crazy what he was doing, but once he’d decided he was going to see Abby he realised there’d been an inevitability about it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d known he couldn’t keep away from her, that they were destined to fail in their mission to be grown up and responsible about the whole situation.

After his conversation with Georgie about Abby’s true feelings he’d gone home and looked up flights to New York. He’d found the last seat on one to JFK which seemed providential, and he’d booked it. He hadn’t told Abby; had decided to surprise her. He’d told her he had an early meeting so he’d be late with their morning video call and instead of seeing her on the computer he planned to be there in person. He was excited at the prospect, and the image he had of her face when she realised he was there.

To make it possible he’d pulled in every favour he could to push back meetings, and the work he had deadlines for he’d stayed up until the early hours in order to complete his reports. It had been three long twenty-hour days, and he’d still have to do some work while he was in New York, but it would all be worth it when they were together.

The seatbelt sign flashed, and he fastened his, sat back in his seat and looked out at the lightening sky. Just a few hours now and Abby would be in his arms again.

\---

The flight was unremarkable, and he landed at JFK just under eight hours after he’d left Heathrow. It was breakfast time, and he headed to one of the concession stands to pick up some pastries to take to Abby. As he waited in line to get one of the iconic yellow New York cabs, he switched on his phone, saw a string of messages from Abby asking him to call her. That was strange. She knew he’d be late to their breakfast meeting.

He dialled her number, waited impatiently for it to connect.

“Marcus!” she said in a strange voice when she answered.

“Abby, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Where are you?”

“Erm, I’m, erm, I’m just finishing my meeting.”

“Are you in New York?”

How did she know that? Why would she think that?

“I... it’s a surprise,” he said, annoyed that his plans for appearing unannounced at her home had been squashed.

“It’s a surprise alright,” she said, the short laugh she gave sounding strained.

“I just... I wanted to see you so badly.”

“I wanted to see you too.”

“You can. I’ll be at your place in less than an hour.”

“Well, that’s great, but I won’t be there.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m in London.”

He was so shocked by her words he could hardly speak. “W...what?”

“Yeah.” She laughed almost manically. “Guess we had the same idea.”

“You’re kidding!” The cab in front of him became free and Marcus stepped back, gestured to the man behind him to take it.

“I wish I was.”

“You’re in London,” he said, somewhat redundantly.

“You’re in New York.”

“Fuck!” He put his hand to his head and ran his fingers through his hair obsessively as the reality of their situation sank in.

“I know! What the hell are we going to do?”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Marcus find a flight back to the UK in time?

Abby stood in the baggage area of Heathrow Airport, phone pressed tightly to her ear, the disbelief she’d felt when she’d first discovered what had happened changing to disappointment and a sense of hopelessness now she knew it was a reality. On the other end of the phone, some three and a half thousand miles away, Marcus was talking breathily as he sprinted back inside JFK.

“I’m heading to the ticket counter, find out what they’ve got there. Go online, see if you can book a flight. Ideally to Heathrow but Gatwick or anywhere in the south will do. Hell, even Manchester at a pinch.”

“Okay.”

“Book it if you see it, even if you then find something better. We can always cancel.”

“Should I try to book one for me to come home if I can’t find one for you?”

“No, let’s keep it simple. I’m coming back to London; it’s just a case of how soon I can get there.”

“Okay, fine. I’m on it.”

“Call me back if you have something. Keep in touch.”

“I will. Oh, God, I hope we find something today, Marcus!”

“Me too. I’m sure we will. Okay, go, see what you can find.”

“Right.”

She ended the call; there was no time for niceties. The baggage carousel started to turn, and as bags started to emerge, she kept one eye on it while searching the travel app for flights from New York to England. She couldn’t find anything, not even to Manchester or anywhere on the entire island. The first available flight was on the 26th December, which was too late, and would mean Marcus having to spend Christmas Eve and Day alone at JFK airport. No, she couldn’t have that; there had to be a solution. She used different apps and websites with the same result. Nothing. It was Christmas, and every last seat was booked. Goddamn it!

Her small suitcase appeared on the carousel and she grabbed it, took it over to a row of nearby seats, perched on the end one and returned to her phone. This time she searched flights to New York despite what Marcus had said. The most important thing now was for them to be together, even if it meant meeting somewhere else. Were there flights to Greenland? That thought made her smile for the first time since she’d landed, and she continued her search feeling slightly more positive.

They were lucky in some ways that she’d found out that Marcus was in New York as early as she had. Her original plan had been to get a taxi to Dorset and surprise him at home with the rest of the family. She couldn’t find the note she’d made with the address and hadn’t a hope in hell of directing anyone to the house. She was confused enough by the maze of tiny roads and lanes that led to the manor.

She’d called Georgie, the only member of the family whose number she had, and the girl had started crying the minute Abby said she was in London. She’d presumed it was out of happiness and excitement but the terrible truth was soon revealed. Marcus was on a plane going in the opposite direction, had maybe already landed. They’d had the same idea. Georgie had been beside herself, kept saying it was all her fault though Abby couldn’t figure out why. She’d spent a few moments calming her down, and then had left her so she could ring Marcus.

Every app she tried told her the same thing – no seats available for two days. Abby sighed; her brief moment of hope extinguished. She was going to have to tell Marcus.

She called him, but he didn’t answer. He was talking to the ticket office she supposed. She sent him a text telling him of her failure together with a crying emoji, then she sat down to wait for him to call back with news.

\---

“Are you sure there’s nothing?” said Marcus, feeling exasperation rise but trying to keep it in check. He wanted to keep the ticket saleswoman onside, so he was speaking calmly and evenly when in reality he wanted to jump over the counter and book himself a seat. Not that he’d be able to work out how to use her ridiculously complicated looking computer system.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It’s Christmas. All our flights are fully booked.”

“What about standby? Can I go on standby for the next flight, or the next few flights? I have a return ticket; it would simply be a case of changing the date. It doesn’t have to be first class or business. I’m happy to go in economy.”

“The next flight to Heathrow leaves in just over an hour. I can put you on standby for that, but I have to warn you there are other people in front of you who are also on standby for a seat.”

“Even in first class?”

“There is someone who requires a seat in first class, Sir, yes.”

“Bloody hell!” Marcus stroked his chin while he contemplated what to do. Behind him, people were making sighing noises and grumbling about him holding up the queue. In his pocket he felt his phone vibrate. He ignored it all.

“What if I can persuade someone who has a guaranteed seat to transfer it into my name?”

The saleswoman shook her head, a smile on her face that looked sympathetic but was probably just her standard smile for placating customers who looked as though they were about to explode. “I’m afraid none of the airlines that fly to the UK will accept name transfers.”

“Okay, okay. Put me on standby for the next flight.” He added “please” as an afterthought.

She made the changes to his tickets, told him which gate to head to which of course was all the way on the other side of the terminal. He ran, calling Abby as he went.

“Any news?” he puffed, not feeling optimistic.

“I sent you a text. I couldn’t find anything to anywhere I’m afraid. It’s Christmas; everything’s booked solid.”

“Bloody Christmas!” He swerved out of the way of a motorised luggage cart. “I’m on standby for the next flight which leaves in an hour but there are others in front of me if a seat becomes available.”

“Oh fingers crossed, Marcus! Let’s hope it happens.”

Marcus had little hope, but he didn’t want to let Abby know that just yet. “I’ll make it happen somehow.”

“I know you will.”

“Okay. I’m going to go so I can concentrate on getting there in one piece. That’s the second luggage thing that’s nearly took me out!” he said as he swerved again.

“Don’t kill yourself!”

“I won’t. I’ll call you when I have more news.”

At the gate he went straight to the counter, explained to the man and woman behind it that he was on standby.

“Yes, Mr Kane, we have your details. A seat in first class has become available, but the standby has taken it. You’re third in line now.” The woman smiled, as though that was a good thing.

“Who was it who took the seat?” he said, looking around at the motley bunch of passengers, all of whom seemed excited to be going to London. No one stood out as being particularly elated.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you that information, Mr Kane.”

“No, of course not. I appreciate that.” He gave her his most winning smile, lowered his voice and leaned towards her. “Could you at least tell me if the person is here or if they’ve gone to the first-class lounge?”

The woman shook her head but the man, who was tall and slim and neat-looking, leaned forward. “She did,” he said, smiling warmly at Marcus.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling back. He raised his eyebrows at the woman who clicked her tongue in annoyance.

He entered the lounge, planning his strategy of how to get this woman’s coveted ticket. There were six, maybe seven women seated so he had no choice but to address everyone.

“Pardon me,” he said in his most English accent. “Would the lady who was recently on standby please spare me a moment.”

A well-groomed lady who looked to be in her sixties appeared startled at his words, so he headed towards her.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” he said.

“What do you want?” she replied in a nasal New York accent that sounded a lot less refined than Abby’s.

“I’m just going to be blunt,” he said. “I want your seat.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m willing to compensate you handsomely for it.”

“I don’t want your money. I need to get to England.”

“I appreciate that; I need to get there too, but do you need to get there right now? Could you not take a later flight?”

“It’s been hard enough getting this seat!”

“I know, I know.” He got down on one knee beside her. “I’m desperate, you see. My wife is alone in London and she’s expecting our first child and she called me not half an hour ago to say she’s gone into labour. I have to get back.” He had no acting skills, but he tried his best to look and sound like an anxious father-to-be. 

“Oh dear,” said the woman. “That’s terrible.”

“Yes. I don’t want to miss the birth and she has no one. She’s American like yourself, from New York, and we only recently moved to London and she doesn’t know anyone. I don’t want her to give birth all alone.”

The woman was softening, he could see it in the way the wrinkles on her brow smoothed out. Then they creased again.

“I don’t know. Sounds fishy to me.”

“You can speak to her. I can call her right now and you can talk to her.”

He held out his phone, hoping she would accept his offer as proof enough that he was telling the truth. She did not.

“Okay, I’ll speak with her,” she said.

Crap! Marcus dialled Abby’s number, his heart thumping. He was aware by now of the entire first-class lounge watching him.

“Any luck?” said Abby when she answered.

“Darling, how is your labour going? What does the doctor say about how long it will be?”

“What?” Abby said, confusion in her voice.

“Just go with it,” he said. “Breathe through the pain like the doctor says.”

“Marcus? What the hell?”

“Sweetheart, I’m trying to get back but it’s...” he sighed dramatically. “There’s a lady here who wants to talk to you. She might be willing to help us. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

He held the phone out so the lady and indeed the entire first-class lounge could hear Abby as she stuttered in surprise.

“Was that a contraction?” Marcus said.

“Y...yes,” said Abby.

“Hold on, darling.”

The woman moved closer to the phone. “Erm, hello. I’m Madeline. Are you okay?”

“Hi Madeline, yes I’m...” Abby sucked in a breath. “I’m okay.”

“Your husband is very worried about you. How long will it be?”

“It could be any time; the last baby came quite quickly, a few hours.”

Madeline looked at Marcus with a frown because he’d told her a moment ago it was their first child.

“That was with another man,” he said, but Madeline didn’t look impressed; he was losing her. “She lost her last husband and child in a car accident. This baby means so much to us both.”

“That’s right,” said Abby, and she made a very realistic sobbing noise like a hitch in her throat.

“Oh, lord, that’s so terrible,” said Madeline.

“Yes,” said Marcus, starting to feel guilty.

“Well, yes, of course you must get back to your wife. You can have my seat.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” said Marcus.

“Yes, thank you,” huffed Abby on the phone.

“Hold on, darling, I’ll be with you soon.” Marcus switched off the phone before Abby could reply. He stood along with Madeline.

“I’m not keeping you from anything important if you don’t get this flight, am I?” he said, remorse kicking in. “It’s Christmas Eve after all.”

“Nothing as important as a baby. I only came today to get a last-minute cheaper ticket. I can get another flight.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

“If you’re sure...”

“I am.”

They went to the gate to switch their standby positions. The woman behind the counter wasn’t happy at all, but the man was more amenable. He still made Marcus wait a frantic few minutes while he checked if the other standby passengers ahead of Marcus were willing to upgrade to first class. Luckily none of them were, so the switch was made, and Marcus was soon boarding the plane with everyone else. Madeline hadn’t wanted any compensation, but he’d felt so guilty at tricking her he’d thrust all the money he had in his wallet at her, which was some five hundred dollars or so.

On the plane he called Abby while the rest of the passengers boarded.

“What the hell was that, Marcus?” she said with a half laugh.

“I was desperate. It was just the first thing that popped into my mind.”

“I feel so bad for that woman, though.”

“I know, I did too afterwards but she’s fine with it, I promise you.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I am. I’m coming home!” he said.

“I’m so grateful for that.”

“Okay, so the gulf stream is behind us and they say it’s going to be about a seven-hour flight, so I’ll land just before midnight.”

“You’ll just make it here for Christmas day!”

“Yes. Call my car service, I’ll text you the number, and they’ll take you to Dorset. I’ll join you there.”

She was silent for a moment. “You know, I don’t think I want that, Marcus. I think I’ll wait here for you.”

“Abby, that’s a long time to wait!”

“It’s only the same as a layover; I’ve had plenty of those before. There’s lots to keep me occupied here. I’ll get something to eat and do some shopping. It will be fine.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is. I can’t wait for you to get all the way to Dorset before I see you, that will add another couple of hours to the time.”

“Okay, that sounds perfect then. Can you call the service anyway and book a car for when I land? I think I’ll be too tired to drive. I only have carry-on luggage, so I’ll be straight out.”

“I will do. Oh, wow, I can’t believe I’m really going to see you again in just a few hours!”

“As long as nothing else happens and I don’t get rerouted to Paris or somewhere.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Marcus!”

The flight attendant gave Marcus a look that told him to stop talking and switch off his phone.

“I have to go. We’re about to take off. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes! See you soon. I love you.”

“Love you.”

He ended the call, texted her the car service number, then switched off his phone and sat back in his comfortable seat. He was exhausted, but happy. He closed his eyes, was asleep five minutes after the plane took off.

\---

The time spent waiting for Marcus’s plane passed quickly for Abby; in fact she really enjoyed herself. She booked a hotel room so she could store her luggage, then hit the shops, buying extra presents for everyone now that she’d be seeing them in person rather than long-distance watching them open the gifts she’d already had shipped. She enjoyed a massage in the spa and a new manicure, then she napped in her hotel room, waking up still tired but marginally more rested. In the evening she ate ramen noodles at Wagamama and had a cocktail in one of the lounges.

By eleven-thirty that night she was in the arrivals hall, sitting in a prime position for watching both the flight information board and the exit where Marcus would appear. His flight was early and had recently landed, and she knew from her own experience that it would probably take him twenty minutes at least to deplane and wind his way along the stark, bright corridors of Terminal 5 to where she was waiting. Her heart was thumping with the anticipation. She adjusted the Stonehenge baseball cap she was wearing as a basic disguise in case anyone recognised her, and then got up, dragging her small suitcase behind her. People were strung out along the metal barrier that kept those waiting from those arriving until the very last minute. She stood at the end so she wouldn’t have to run along the barrier with her case which wasn’t what she wanted Marcus’s first sighting of her after six weeks to be.

People began to emerge in staggered groups and walk towards her. Marcus was at the front, pushing his floppy dark hair back from his eyes, a large overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He was looking along the barrier at the people waiting, and then his eyes fell on her at the end. He quickened his pace, a smile appearing on his pale face, broadening quickly. Abby smiled in return, was desperate to get around the barrier but a guard was standing there looking sternly at her.

A few long seconds and then Marcus was in front of her, his dark eyes crinkled with happiness. They flung their arms around each other, and his hand cradled the back of her head gently as they kissed.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered, peppering her face with kisses before returning to her lips.

“Me too,” she mumbled, her lips vibrating against his. 

He was warm and soft and comforting and they held each other tightly, half blocking the exit until the security guard appeared and told them to move along. Marcus took Abby’s hand and they walked through the hall to the exit.

“Love the hat,” he said, looking her over.

“I don’t know why I brought it but I’m glad I did. Someone recognised me earlier, so I figured I’d better disguise myself. It was this or having to wait until the car to have my arms around you.”

“I’m very glad you chose to wear it!” He put his arm around her shoulder, leaned towards her to kiss her.

“I can’t believe what we’ve been through today!” said Abby.

“I know. God, that was crazy. When you said you were in London my heart just stopped.”

“I couldn’t believe it. I thought, please don’t tell me we’re not going to see each other after all this!”

“It worked out okay.”

“Yeah, thanks to Madeline.”

“Oh, yes.” Marcus chuckled. “How are your labour pains?”

“False alarm.”

“Oh, good.”

“You were a very good actor,” she said, smirking at him.

“I didn’t do too bad, did I?”

“You were great; very ingenious.”

“I would literally have done anything to get back to you.”

He squeezed her shoulder and Abby sighed with happiness and relief. He was here. They were together again.

Outside the terminal, they made their way to the parking lot where the car service was waiting. The car was a Daimler limousine with a long back seat and the moment they were inside Marcus put up the privacy shield between them and the driver, and pulled her towards him. Kissing him properly after so long felt like slipping beneath freshly laundered sheets. It was new and fresh and then the warmth slid over her with the comfort of the familiar, their bodies falling into rhythm, moulding to each other.

“I’ve enjoyed our video sessions,” Marcus said when they finally parted, the making out having lasted so long Abby figured they were probably already halfway to Dorset. “But it’s nothing like the real thing. Having you here, being able to look at you, to touch you, to smell you. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

“Nothing compares.”

“No.”

They were lying together on the seat, Abby half on top of him. She slid her hand beneath his sweater, fingers caressing his soft, warm skin.

“Mmm,” he said.

“Are you tired?”

“Not really. I slept quite a bit on the plane. Are you?”

“I probably am but I’m so happy to see you I’m not feeling it. I’m wired.”

“We’ll be home soon.”

“Yeah,” she said, pushing his sweater up and wriggling down so she could press her lips to his bare stomach.

“What are you doing?” he said, stroking the top of her head.

“Refamiliarizing myself.”

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he murmured.

“I intend to finish,” she said, unbuckling his pants.

They arrived in Dorset tired but satisfied, and Marcus opened the door quietly. The house was in darkness, which wasn’t a surprise as it was nearly half past two in the morning. Barley and Vincent were the only family members awake to greet them. Abby gave them both a hug and a kiss then followed Marcus as he crept up the stairs.

“Did you tell Georgie I’d got a flight?” he whispered as they quickly unpacked their things.

“Yes. She wanted to stay up, but I told her to sleep otherwise Santa wouldn’t bring her any presents.”

“Not sure she believes in that anymore.”

“No, but she was surprisingly agreeable. Didn’t argue once.” Abby put on the pyjamas she’d bought in London because it was cold in the room, got into bed next to Marcus who was in his black long-sleeved shirt and leggings.

“That’s not like her.”

“No. It’s because of her I’m here really,” said Abby, snuggling into Marcus’s arms.

“How so?”

“She told me how sad you were without me and how much everyone missed me and I felt so bad I just had to try and make it happen.”

“She said the same to me,” said Marcus, looking down at Abby with a frown. “That’s why I decided to fly to you.”

“The little minx!” said Abby as realisation dawned. “We’ve been played.”

“And her evil plan backfired.” Marcus sniggered. “No wonder she feels guilty. She’s going to pay tomorrow.”

“Don’t be hard on her; she loves us that’s all.”

“Hmm,” he said, leaning in and kissing her lips.

“I just realised something!” said Abby.

“My sister is a monster?”

“No. It’s Christmas Day!”

“So it is. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!”

They kissed again, and then Abby rested her head on his chest. Marcus had his arm around her holding her to him, and they fell asleep like that.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Day!
> 
> Please read the end note at the end only!

Marcus opened his eyes to a dappled sunlight filtering through the curtains, shafts of it landing on the rug beneath the window, and across the arm of the chair. He was disorientated for a moment, especially when he felt another warm body shift against his back. He was home in Dorset, and Abby was here! He turned over gently, trying not to wake her but wanting to see her. She was already awake, smiling softly at him.

“Hey!” she said.

“Morning. You been awake long?”

“An hour or so maybe. I’ve been enjoying snuggling against you.”

“It’s nice snuggling against you.” He rolled towards her, was pleased when she pulled him on top of her.

He dragged her pyjamas down and then his leggings, rubbed his stiffening cock against her as they kissed. She wrapped her legs around him and he slipped inside.

“Aah,” he said, savouring the long-desired moment.

“Mmm, yeah.”

They lay together afterwards, warmed by their activities.

“What time is it?” said Abby, looking around the room.

There was a clock on the mantel above the fireplace, but it was stuck between four and five. Marcus reached to his bedside table, checked his phone.

“Just gone nine,” he said.

“We’d better get up,” said Abby, throwing the cover off her.

“Why? Marcus grumbled, grabbing hold of her hand to stop her leaving.

“Because it’s Christmas day.”

“So?”

“So, Georgie’s probably been up for hours already.”

She looked at him all smiles and excitement. “You’re a big kid, aren’t you?” he said, finding her smile infectious as always.

“Yes. Come on. If you get up now you can shower with me.”

“Ooh, well in that case.”

It was nearly ten when they made it downstairs, both of them dressed in jeans and jumpers. Abby’s was a warm red and had a smirking reindeer on the front. Marcus thankfully did not own a Christmas jumper, so he was in his usual black. The house smelled of oranges and spices and his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten much in the last twenty-four hours other than the pastries he’d bought for breakfast in New York with Abby and some terrible airline meal he’d not enjoyed. Georgie’s voice drifted from the sitting room, so he headed there.

He had an armful of presents retrieved from their bags – ones sent from the family that Abby had brought back with her, and a couple of his he’d taken with him to open in New York. At the door he paused, handed the gifts to Abby and told her to wait, and then he opened the door and poked his head into the room.

“Merry Christmas!” he said.

Georgie spun around, screeched when she saw him. “You’re here!” she said, running towards him. “Where’s Abby?”

“Abby? I thought it was me you wanted home?”

“No, oh my god! Well, yes you too but... where is she?”

“This is the only present you’re getting from me,” he said, and then he opened the door fully to reveal Abby standing with a huge grin on her face.

Much screaming and chattering ensued. Marcus relieved Abby of the gifts so she was free to hug Georgie then left the girls to their reunion, went to the far end of the room where his mother and father were sitting in two chairs arranged next to the old Christmas tree they resurrected every year. It was an ancient thing that leaned slightly to one side. None of the decorations matched in terms of any kind of colour scheme; they were a motley arrangement of items collected or inherited over many years. He put the gifts with the rest beneath it.

“Merry Christmas, mum,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Merry Christmas, dad.” He shook his father’s hand.

“Merry Christmas, son,” said Vera. “It’s lovely to have you here.”

“Yes, good to see you, Marcus,” said Sir Anthony, surprising Marcus with the warmth of his voice.

“I nearly didn’t make it, but we’re here now.” He turned to look at Abby. She looked across at the same time, came over with Georgie.

“Merry Christmas!” she said, giving Vera and Sir Anthony a hug whether they wanted one or not. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“We’re happy to have you here, Abby.”

“Yes,” said Sir Anthony.

“I couldn’t wait for you to come down!” said Georgie. “I wanted to go and wake you but mummy wouldn’t let me.”

“Very wise of mummy,” said Marcus, glancing at Abby who smiled in return.

“Can we open our presents now? I’ve been waiting.” Georgie ran over to the tree, gestured to where the pile of brightly wrapped gifts lay beneath it, as though Marcus hadn’t just put half of them there.

“You can open one but then I really need a cup of tea and some breakfast.”

Unsurprisingly, Georgie picked a gift Abby had sent her as the first one she wanted to open. It was beautifully wrapped in a silver, glittery paper with a white bow, but Georgie paid little heed to that and tore the paper off unceremoniously like she always had.

“Oh, my God, thank you!” she said, examining it closely.

It was a framed clapperboard from Abby’s film, Finding Amy. It was from the final scene and take and had Abby’s name on as director and producer and the dates. The frame had a dedication to Abby. Clearly, it had been a parting gift to her from her crew.

“Wow, that’s an amazing present, Georgie. You should treasure that,” said Marcus, moved by the generosity of the gift.

“I will! Thanks, Abby.” She ran towards her, wrapped her arms around her.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Maybe one day you’ll have one of your own.”

“I’m gonna write a movie for you. We’ll probably win loads of Oscars.”

“I’m sure we will,” said Abby, kissing Georgie’s head.

“I hope you like my gift,” she said, handing Abby a small box-shaped package. Inside was a polished ammonite on a silver chain. “I got them to string it for me at the museum. It’s the one you found, your first one.”

“Oh wow, I love it! Thank you.”

Georgie sighed with relief. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure. It’s not expensive like a diamond or anything.”

“I wouldn’t want anything like that from you, Georgie. This is perfect and really meaningful.”

“I kind of stole it from you when you were here.”

Abby laughed. “I did wonder where it had gone; I thought I must have left it on the beach.”

“No, I had it. I was gonna keep it for myself, like as a memory, but then when you and Marcus... well I thought it would be a nice gift.”

“It is. I will always treasure it.” She held up her hair and Marcus fastened the necklace. She wasn’t wearing the chain for her engagement ring of course because that was back on her finger.

Marcus’s gift from Georgie was a jumper, a Christmas one at that. It had a miserable looking Father Christmas on the front and said, “grumpy but lovable.”

“I’m not wearing that!” he said, examining it.

“You are!” chorused Abby and Georgie.

“Abby helped me pick it out,” said Georgie grinning.

“Come on, Marcus. It’s Christmas.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, setting his face the same as the one on the jumper, although inside he had to admit he was amused. He took off his black jumper, pulled the Christmas one over his head. “There. What do you think?”

“Absolutely perfect,” said Abby, and she and a giggling Georgie high fived.

“Thank you, Georgie, I suppose,” he muttered, and then he scooped her up off Abby’s knee, put her over his shoulder and headed out of the door. “Time for breakfast, and I think I’m having baked teenager on toast.”

“Get off me!” she screamed, battering his back, but he didn’t put her down until they were in the kitchen.

The room was warm with steamed up windows and pots and pans on every surface. Mrs Prentice was busy at the stove. She usually had the day off but as a recent widow she’d decided to work this year and was having lunch with the family. This news had delighted Marcus until he’d thought he wasn’t going to be here, so he was doubly happy to see her when he deposited Georgie on the table top and gave the old cook a brief hug.

“There ye are me 'ansum,” she said, ruffling his hair like she had since he was a young boy. “I wondered when you’d be in here.”

“What have you got for us?”

“I got cinnamon rolls and there’s still a few pancakes that Miss Georgie couldn’t fit into her enormous stomach.”

“I’m a growing girl; I need a good breakfast,” said Georgie, pinching one of the pancakes.

“You leave them for yer brother, young lady,” replied Mrs Prentice, slapping her hand away as it crept towards another pancake.

“I’ll take some of both for me and Abby,” said Marcus, piling a plate with rolls and pancakes.

“You take em all. That girl needs feeding up, unlike some people,” she said, glaring at Georgie.

“Love you!” said Georgie cheekily to Mrs Prentice as she followed Marcus back to the living room.

After a pause for breakfast it was back to present opening. Marcus had bought Georgie tickets to a West End show she’d been harping on about for weeks, with the promise of a new dress and dinner wherever she wanted.

“There’s another thing,” he said, handing her a small oblong package, “but you have to promise not to ever play it in front of me.”

She opened it to reveal the latest Strictly Come Dancing DVD. “Awesome! I’ll play it later.”

“In your bedroom.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you!” She put her arms around him and kissed him. “What have you got for Abby?”

“Oh...hmmm...” Marcus fetched his gift from under the tree, handed it to Abby. He hadn’t anticipated giving her this with the family watching. The other thing he’d got her he’d had to hide in his bedroom as it was definitely not suitable for the eyes of parents or a young girl.

“I’m sorry you had to bring this back in your suitcase,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“I was very intrigued as to what it was,” said Abby, fingering the red Christmas paper he’d wrapped it in.

“I tried to disguise it.”

She teased off the paper slowly to reveal the bubble wrap he’d used to hide the hard edges of the framed painting.

“Oh, wow, it’s really beautiful.” She showed it to the family who made the appropriate noises of approval. It was a beach scene in the contemporary style he liked. Oil on canvas. Two colourful figures running along the shore, one looking back at the other.

“I had it commissioned by a local artist. It’s the beach at Aldeburgh.”

“Are those figures us?”

“Yeah.”

“God, thank you.” She put her arms around him, pulled him to her. “It’s so perfect. I love it; I love you,” she whispered into his ear. Her eyes were glistening when she let him go.

“Glad you like it,” he said, full of happiness, because he’d spent days wondering what to get her that would be meaningful. At first he’d figured jewellery, but that wasn’t really Abby.

“I do.”

“Let me see,” said Georgie, taking the picture and examining it. “When did you go to Aldeburgh?”

“When you didn’t know about us,” he said, smirking.

“I don’t know how I’m going to better this now,” said Abby, handing him her gift with a laugh.

“As long as it’s not another Christmas jumper,” he said, meticulously undoing the wrapping, mainly to prolong the enjoyment because he’d never had a Christmas gift from a partner before.

“Marcus will like anything you get him,” said Georgie, her fingers tangling with his, trying to encourage him to open it quicker.

“Get off!” he said, batting her away. “You’ve had your turn.”

Beneath the wrapping was a wooden box and inside the box were an array of small, labelled glass bottles plus a small bottle of champagne all nestling in red velvet. There was a card with a recipe on for a Marcus Cocktail. A laugh exploded from him.

“Oh, God!”

“It’s my invention. I had a masterclass from this guy in New York and this is what we created,” Abby said, her smile broad. “It’s red,” she added, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s perfect. I can’t wait to try it later.” He put his hand on the back of her head, caressed her hair as he kissed her. “Thank you.”

“Can I have one?” said Georgie.

“No!” chorused Marcus and Abby.

They took their time opening the rest of the gifts, and then Marcus and Abby took a walk to the lighthouse with an over-excited Georgie in tow.

“I have another surprise for you, Abby,” she said as they stood on the wind-swept headland looking out at the broiling sea.

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart,” said Abby, putting her arms around Georgie and hugging her from behind.

“Oh, but I had to. I finished the play!”

“That’s amazing! Well done, Georgie.”

“Yes, great job, Georgie,” added Marcus.

“So I was thinking we could rehearse it later – like put it on only without costumes cause I haven’t got anything like that together yet.”

“It’s Christmas day, pipsqueak,” said Marcus.

“So?”

“So, there are other people to think about, and Abby’s on holiday.”

“There’s a role for you,” said Georgie, to which Marcus groaned.

“I don’t mind if your mum and dad don’t. We can run through it,” said Abby.

“Great!” Georgie started running back towards the house, leaving Marcus and Abby no choice but to follow.

“I’m sorry she’s like this,” Marcus said, putting his arm around Abby. “I don’t know where she gets it from.”

“I think she’s a lot like you actually.”

“What?”

“Yes. Your both clever and bright and dedicated, and you have been known to be enthusiastic.”

“Yes, when I’m with you,” he said, stopping to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

“That’s the only time that matters,” Abby murmured in reply.

“Mmm.”

They were getting lost in their kiss when Georgie yelled at them to hurry up.

“Lunch, play, then we’re having an early night,” said Marcus.

“And cocktail.”

“Oh, yes. Cocktails then bed.”

“How our relationship began,” Abby said with a grin.

“Yes,” he said, laughing.

\---

Christmas lunch at the Kane family residence was an enormous affair, more complicated and with more traditions than even an American Thanksgiving. There were crackers that had to be pulled and paper hats to be worn. The crackers contained jokes as bad as any Marcus had ever attempted to tell, and plastic toys of no value. Abby got a tiny notepad that only an ant would be able to write on, if ants could write. The Kanes found all the jokes hilarious.

The turkey was carved so thinly by Sir Anthony it was almost see-through, and his actions were met with polite applause as though carving meat was a new skill he’d recently acquired. She knew it was not because last time she’d stayed they’d had beef and he’d carved that as well. Must be another Christmas thing.

There were no Yorkshire Puddings this time much to Abby’s disappointment, but they only accompanied beef she was told. Instead there were mounds and mounds of vegetables from roasted potatoes, carrots and parsnips to cauliflower in a cheese sauce and some small green balls that looked like mini cabbages which Marcus termed Brussells sprouts. They smelled like sweaty feet and didn’t taste much better. Abby ate one then surreptitiously passed the rest to Vincent. Everybody else devoured them happily.

The dessert was a fruit pudding that Mrs Prentice brought to the table on a large serving platter. Sir Anthony then poured brandy over it and set it aflame, another action which received a round of applause. The British were an interesting people!

“I can’t move,” she said to Marcus when they were slumped on the sofa together afterwards.

“That’s how it should be,” he mumbled.

“When are we doing the play?” said Georgie, who seemed unaffected by the enormous amount of food she’d stuffed into her mouth.

“Later,” said Marcus.

“I’m going to watch my DVD,” she announced.

A comfortable silence fell over the living room. Abby closed her eyes, just for a moment. When she opened them again, it was dark outside. She heard a door creak and looked around to see Georgie poking her head around it.

“She’s awake!” she said to someone outside the room, and that was when Abby realised she was alone, that Marcus, his parents and Mrs Prentice had all left.

“What time is it?” she said, as Marcus entered the room followed by everyone else.

“Gone five.”

“You should have woken me.”

“We didn’t want to. You’re still jetlagged.”

“I feel better now.”

“Good,” he said, sitting next to her.

“Time for the play!” said Georgie, running into the room with an armful of papers which turned out to be three stapled copies of her play.

“This looks amazing, sweetheart,” said Abby flicking through it.

“It should be good; I did everything you said.”

“I’ve been practising my English accent, but I’m happy to take notes from you all.” Abby stood next to Georgie in front of the Christmas tree. “Shall we begin?”

The play was set in an English country house not unlike the one they were in and involved a rich but lonely English heiress who takes in an orphan girl whose only relative, her handsome but poor brother, is thought lost at sea. Of course, the brother is very much alive, and returns to claim his sister. He is disagreeable and moody, but eventually the heiress falls in love with him despite his shortcomings and his low stature in life. Georgie was of course the orphan girl and Marcus the brother.

It was enjoyable playing the part. Georgie was good if over enthusiastic. Marcus hammed up his part, giving his character a Dorset accent which Abby had to try hard not to laugh at – not because he was bad at it, but because it sounded funny to her ears anyway, and she didn’t want to offend Georgie or the rest of the family. Georgie was a good writer for her age, but more than that she was willing to listen and take on board suggestions. Maybe that was because it was Abby telling her and she wanted to please, but nevertheless it was a good sign. Was she too young for a script writing class? There were a couple of writers Abby knew in London who might be willing to give her some tips and encourage her. She’d look into it.

“That was fantastic,” she said to Georgie after they’d taken their bows.

“Thanks! You were brilliant.”

“What did you all think of the accent? Truth only.”

“Great!” said Georgie.

“Much improved,” said Marcus.

“You’re elongating your vowels too much,” said Sir Anthony, “especially the As. You’re overcompensating because you Americans bark them out usually.”

“Oh, right,” replied Abby, taken aback not by the caustic edge to his comment about Americans, but by the fact that he’d listened so closely. “Thanks. Anything else?”

“A few things.”

She ended up in a corner of the room with Sir Anthony who gave her an in-depth commentary and opinion on her English accent and on Americans in general whom he for the most part tolerated at best.

“I was wrong about you,” he said as she was getting up to leave.

“In what way?” she said, sitting back down again feeling apprehensive about what he was going to say.

“I wasn’t happy that Marcus was entangling himself with you given your situation.”

“I can understand that.”

“Yes. Well.” He sniffed, looked down his nose at her in a way that was so similar to Marcus. “I hoped that settling down would be the making of him and so it has seemed. You have been good for him.”

“He has been good for me too. He’s a very caring man, very loving, very protective and he’s so interesting, and clever. You have a lot to be proud of.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you should tell him,” she said, standing again. “Thank you for the help; I very much appreciate your straightforwardness. You are like your son in that way.”

When she turned around, Marcus had disappeared. She found him in the kitchen, the cocktail ingredients lined up on the table in front of him.

“Was my dad helpful?” he said.

“Yes, he was great.”

“Good,” was his only reply.

“He said I’ve been good for you.”

He looked up, surprise on his face. “Wow! Guess you’ve charmed him.”

“I think it’s you he’s proud of.”

“Hmm.” He turned back to the table, picked up the recipe card. “Shall we make this?”

“Yes, let’s.”

Marcus mixed the ingredients in the cocktail shaker, poured the red liquid out over ice. He handed one to Abby.

“Merry Christmas!” he said.

“Merry Christmas.”

They took sips at the same time. Abby hoped it had travelled well because she’d loved what she’d created with the guy in New York.

“Wow, that has a punch!” said Marcus, licking his lips. “It’s spicy too.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“It’s how I see you,” she said, moving closer to him.

“I love how you see me,” he replied, putting the hand not holding his cocktail around her waist.

“Shall we take these to bed?”

“Definitely.”

“We’d better say goodnight to your parents first.”

Marcus sighed. “If we must.”

They returned to the living room. “Abby and I are having an early night. Jet lag you know,” he said, receiving knowing smiles from his mother and even his father in return.

“There’s still half the night left!” said Georgie, disappointed.

“And there’s a whole day tomorrow; you can see plenty of us then. Night, pipsqueak.” He kissed her head.

“Night, Georgie. Thanks again for the necklace and the play.” Abby hugged her and kissed her cheek.

Marcus took her hand and dragged her out before she could get waylaid any further by Georgie who looked as though she was going to say more.

In the bedroom they turfed Vincent off the bed and out of the room, shutting the door and putting a chair behind it so neither dog nor teenager could burst in on them.

“Alone at last!” said Marcus, clinking his glass against Abby’s.

“That was a full day!”

“My family is a lot.”

“They’re wonderful.”

“They have their moments, but I’m glad I have you all to myself now.” He finished his cocktail then pulled Abby onto the bed next to him. “I got you something else when I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you this Christmas. It’s not something I could give you in front of the family.”

He reached under the bed, pulled out another package in the red wrapping paper.

“Intriguing,” said Abby, ripping the paper off this time, eager to see what it was. “Oh, my god!” she laughed. “What is it?”

Marcus laughed. “It’s a clitoral stimulator that you can allegedly use over the internet, so I could control it from here.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but we can also use it together.”

“Wow.” Abby turned the squishy plastic tongue-shaped thing over in her hands. “How do we use it together?”

“Let’s find out.”

They had to download apps to their phones to get the most out of the toy. When Marcus fucked her while it was attached to Abby she came twice in quick succession, putting a pillow over her face to keep her from crying out and alerting the rest of the household to what they were doing.

“If this works across the Atlantic we’re never going to do anything else!” she said, as she lay panting afterwards, her limbs still shaking.

“I like being able to control it, makes me feel like it’s me pleasuring you.”

“It’s always you pleasuring me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I wonder if they have one for men?”

“I expect so.”

“Then I can control you.”

“I like the idea of that.”

“I know you do.” She rolled towards him, rested her head on his chest. “Your adventurousness was the most attractive thing about you when we first met.”

“I was trying to keep up with you.”

“I felt the same! I thought, this guy knows what he’s doing. I knew you’d be great.”

“You’ve never disappointed me, then or since. You continue to surprise me.” He stroked her back, fingers running lightly up and down her spine making her tingle.

“We’re so much more than that now, though, aren’t we?”

“We are.”

“We’re soulmates.”

Marcus kissed her, his lips soft and warm. “You are my soul. My life. My Red.”

They left Dorset two days later. Marcus had to get back to a meeting he hadn’t been able to postpone and Abby’s friend Roan had secured a BBC studio for her to work in so she could delay returning to New York for another week and they could celebrate New Year together.

“It’s only just over three weeks and I’ll see you in New York,” said Abby to a snivelling Georgie.

“I know. It’s just been a lot of fun having you here.”

“It’s been fun for me too, but I’m really excited about our visit. There’s so much I want to show you.”

“Yeah. I’m excited too.”

“That’s good. I love you, sweetheart. See you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Bye, pipsqueak,” said Marcus, giving her a hug and a kiss. “I’ll see you when I pick you up for the airport.”

“Okay.”

Vera gave them both hugs and Abby received a shoulder rub from Sir Anthony.

“Have a safe journey, dear,” he said.

“Thank you.”

He took Marcus’s hand to shake but instead of letting it go immediately again like he usually did he held onto it.

“It’s been good to see you, son. You’ve made a good choice with Abby.”

“Erm, thank you,” said Marcus, shock on his face.

“Things are going well. I’m proud of you.”

Marcus seemed unable to speak. He nodded instead by way of reply.

“What the hell was that?” he said to Abby as they sat in the car heading to London.

“A proud father.”

“Did you say something to him?” he said, looking curiously at her.

“No. He just sees you for who you are.”

“He never has before.”

“Enjoy it; don’t think about it too much,” she replied, settling back into the seat with a smile on her face.

\---

At his apartment in London, Marcus stood at the kitchen counter stirring the chilli he’d made for dinner. He was waiting for Abby to return from an audition Roan had arranged for her. It was for a part in a Channel 4 drama series about the famous American socialite, Nancy Astor, and her time in Britain. Abby would play the title character if she were successful. It would mean spring and summer spent legitimately in London as the series was filming here and at the Astor’s family seat in Cliveden, Berkshire, just an hour’s drive away. She should have been back hours ago, which made him hopeful, but he didn’t know much about the audition process, or if they gave parts the same day.

She was returning to New York again in a couple of days, so knowing she had a job in England would make their parting a lot less painful. He tasted his chilli, added a touch more salt, and then the elevator pinged, and his heart rate shot up.

“Hi,” he said, as she came into the kitchen.

“Hi. That smells great.” She put her arms around him, kissed him. He tasted alcohol on her breath. Was that good or bad?

“How did it go?” he said as casually as he could.

“Fine. Sorry I’m late. I had to have chemistry tests with a couple of the other leads.”

“No problem.”

She looked at him, and he looked at her, and then a broad smile broke out on her face. “I can’t hold it any longer! I got the part!”

“Oh, fantastic!”

She danced around the kitchen, dragging him with her, laughing. “I was so nervous, and I never get nervous, but I really wanted this for obvious reasons. Then they made me do these tests and they’re always tough, you know, because if you don’t have chemistry then it doesn’t matter how good an actor you are, they often don’t go with you.”

“I knew you would get it. You’re perfect for that part.”

“Thank you. I was thinking of you. I think that’s why the chemistry was so good.”

Marcus kissed her. “No, you’re brilliant and talented, that’s what it is.”

“Thank you.” She let go of him, went to the chilli and tasted it. “Mmm. So good.”

“You deserve this part, and it’s something for us to look forward to.”

“Oh, God, yeah. Another whole summer together, and then who knows.”

“People are going to love you and you’ll get loads of work offers, I know it.”

“Let’s hope. When’s dinner?”

“Half an hour.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go and get out of these clothes. My shoes are killing me!”

\---

The following day, New Year’s Eve, Marcus was in his home office putting the finishing touches to a report while Abby was doing some packing in their bedroom ready for her flight on the second. He didn’t want to watch her doing it because it pained him too much. He clicked on the BBC News website afterwards to get the day’s headlines. A small article at the bottom of the page caught his eye. What he saw made his heart thump against his chest.

“Abby!” he shouted. “Abby, get in here!”

“What is it?” she said, running in with a pair of shorts in her hand.

“Look!” He pointed to the article he’d pulled up onto the screen.

“Beloved American TV star in drunken brawl with woman,” she said, reading the headline. “Oh, fuck!”

Marcus took over reading because she seemed to be struck dumb. “Family favourite Spencer Newman, 42, was arrested earlier today after a drunken argument with a woman who claimed to be his girlfriend. The woman, who has not been named, is purportedly not the actor’s long-time partner, actress and producer Abby Griffin, who was recently in the UK making a film in which she stars as the mother of a suicidal girl. Newman and Griffin have been partners over ten years but have not been seen in public together for some time. A spokesman for Newman said it was a private matter and not as it appeared. Griffin could not be reached for comment. The woman in the brawl with Newman has reportedly repeated her claim to be his girlfriend and hinted at more salacious details to come.”

Marcus finished reading and stared at Abby. “Bloody hell!” he said. “Have you had any calls?”

“No, but I haven’t looked at my phone in a while. It’s on charge.” She went to look for it, returned with it in her hand.

“It was dead when I charged it, so it wasn’t turned on. There’s a ton of messages.”

“I’m sorry, Abby.” Marcus took her in his arms, hugged her.

“There’s no need to be sorry. This is great!”

“Why?”

“More details are going to come out, that’s obvious. The other girls will talk, they always do. The truth will be revealed, Marcus.”

“And that’s a good thing? They’ll be talking about you, gossiping.”

“I don’t care.” She smiled brightly at him. “The studio can’t contain this. It’s all going to come out, and once it does, I’ll be free.”

She squeezed him tighter, and they stood for a while like that, holding each other.

“I want you to be free, but I don’t want you hurt,” said Marcus when they parted.

“I’ll look like an idiot for a while, that’s all. The focus will be on him. I’m a small part of the story really. He’s the name.”

“I guess that’s true. Will it affect you getting the part in the series?”

“No, I doubt it. It won’t be a huge thing over here.”

“I’ve got the papers sewn up anyway. They won’t dare print anything negative about you.”

“Then we’re good.” She took her phone, made a show of switching it off.

“Aren’t you going to speak to your agent or anyone?”

“No. He’s not intruding on my time with you. I’ll deal with it back in New York. Let’s go celebrate.”

Abby changed into her red dress and Marcus wore his tuxedo with the shiny trim. They rode the elevator downstairs and headed to the bar where Marcus had reserved the same two seats they’d sat on when they’d first met all those months ago.

“Two French 75s,” he said to the bartender.

“Happy New Year!” said Abby, clinking her glass against his.

“Happy New Year!” Marcus leaned towards her, taking in the musky scent of her perfume. “You look more beautiful than you did that night,” he whispered.

“You look a lot less sad.”

“That’s because I’m happy.”

“So am I. Ridiculously so.”

“Seems like a dream sometimes. I can’t believe what’s happened since then.”

“We fell in love.”

“We did.” He took her hand, caressed it. That first night he’d longed to be able to touch her, couldn’t wait for the elevator to arrive so they could be alone. Now she was his all the time, every part of her, body and soul.

They sat a while, enjoying their drinks, reminiscing about that night.

“Are you feeling adventurous?” he said like he had back then.

“What do you think?”

He grinned as he ordered a couple of Hemingways with the real stuff from the bartender.

“To death in the afternoon,” Abby said, raising her glass.

“To death in the afternoon.”

She rubbed her foot against his calf as they drank, her dress falling open to reveal toned thigh. Georgie’s ammonite nestled in the vee of her breasts now instead of the cross she’d worn that night, and when she took a sip of her drink, the diamond in her engagement ring sparkled.

“I have a view of Tower Bridge from my bedroom,” he said. “I could show you.”

“Is that your line with all the women?” she replied, smirking.

“No. Just you.”

“I suppose if one is in London one should take in the sights.”

“I’m an excellent guide,” he said, his heart thumping as though this was the first time again.

“Shall we go, then?”

“Yes, let’s.”

He held out his arm and she linked hers through his. Together they made their way to the elevator.

“I love you,” Abby said as the door closed behind them and they embraced, kissing passionately.

“I love you, Red,” Marcus replied as he gripped her, fingers stroking the material of her dress, finding the hem, lifting it.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue
> 
> Flash forward fifteen years to the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles. It's a cool night, the sky as dark as it ever gets in LA. Inside the theatre it is crowded with every seat taken. Marcus is wearing a new suit, black of course, with a red cummerbund and black bow tie. To his right sits Georgie. She's wearing a black suit too with a bright red blouse because she never does anything the conventional way. Her long, brown hair is tied in a neat braid on one side. Two seats away on the other side of him is Abby. Her dress is red with a long, flowing skirt and a heart-shaped bodice that emphasises her breasts which are as perfect to Marcus as they were the first time he laid eyes on them in a different red dress sixteen years previously. Between them sits a young man wearing his first suit, black like his father's, his dark hair wavy and untameable. James Alexander Kane is thirteen, and he has his father's looks but not his self-confidence. He doesn't know how handsome he already is, feels awkward and uncomfortable in his suit, would rather be on the beach in Dorset with his dad, looking for fossils. He's proud of his mum, though, has come here for her. He turns to look at her and she looks at him, smiles warmly, puts her hand on top of his and squeezes it, giving him the confidence he has yet to find for himself.
> 
> It's the annual Oscars ceremony, the first Abby has attended because this is the first time she's been nominated. She's excited and nervous, not for herself, but for Georgie, who wrote the screenplay for the movie and is nominated for best screenplay. She looks past James and Marcus to where Georgie is sitting. She's joking with the person in the seat next to her, a young actor nominated for best supporting actor in another movie. This is Georgie's first nomination too, though not her first movie. She's been writing plays and scripts ever since that first play back in the Dorset house. Plays became TV dramas and TV dramas became movies. Abby has starred in three, but this one is by far the best. It was written especially for her and plays to all her strengths as an actress. She wants to win for Georgie.
> 
> Best screenplay is announced, and Georgie is pipped at the post by another movie that will go on to win best picture. Marcus hugs Georgie in consolation, and Abby sends kisses down the line to her via James and Marcus. She's even more nervous now, because she'd expect the best actress Oscar to go to the nominee from the best screenplay movie. It's a shock, then, when her name is called. She looks at Marcus in surprise, and then Georgie is on her feet cheering and James is hugging her and Marcus's arms are around his son and his wife. She stumbles in a daze to the end of the row, walks on shaking legs to the podium, trying to look like a swan on the surface while beneath she is emotionally overwhelmed.
> 
> She's prepared a speech, because Marcus had insisted, and she pulls it out of her bodice now, making the audience laugh. There are many people to thank, but she keeps it short and sweet. Her three favourite people in the world watch and clap as she thanks them and tells them she loves them, and then she's escorted gently from the stage, clutching the golden trophy.
> 
> "I'm so proud of you!" says Marcus in the green room afterwards.
> 
> "Congrats, mum," says James shyly, giving her a kiss.
> 
> "I'm so happy!" screeches Georgie, hugging Abby and twirling her around.
> 
> "Thank you, sweetheart," she says, kissing the girl's cheek. "Thank you for everything."
> 
> "I owe it to you, and you deserve it," she says, grinning broadly.
> 
> Too many people want too many pictures, and Abby poses alone with her Oscar and then with her family, but her favourite picture when she reflects back on the day is of her and Marcus, she in her red dress, he in his black suit, handsome as ever with only a few threads of grey in his dark hair. He has an arm around her waist, and she's leaning in, smiling at something he's said, her Oscar clutched between them. He was telling her he loved her, and other things she could never repeat, but which make her smile again as she thinks of them.
> 
> Well! Gosh, this story! It started as a one shot and then it grew into something that I could never have imagined. I really loved these two characters and their journey. It's always fun writing them enjoying each other and then slowly falling in love. Thank you for reading, and for all the comments which I really appreciate.
> 
> Thanks as always to April who encourages me and supports me and is the reason I'm still here writing five years down the line.
> 
> Until the next story! x


End file.
